Here I Stand
by megasauruss
Summary: [ON HIATUS] The first summer of 1791, Alexander woke up to every single quill he owned floating around his bed. Needless to say, Eliza had explaining to do. The crossover no one asked for.
1. Prologue

_Perhaps you think my lips dissembling, Of virtuous sorrows feign a tale, Then mark my frame with anguish trembling, My hollow eyes and features pale, E'en should my story prove ideal, Too well these wasted limbs declare, My wants at least are not unreal, Then stranger grant the Orphan's pray'r._

* * *

"Everything will be alright.." the mother whispered into her child's ear.

They lay in a broken bed, the mother clutching her dearest son close to her. They both shivered in the cold, without a blanket to warm them. They sweat due to the fever. The son grabbed at his mother's shoulder as she held him.

"Mama... I'm scared," the child spoke with a feverish voice, on the brink of passing out.

"It's okay, m'ijo. Orar a Dios y todo desaparecerá."

The mother could slowly feel herself slipping away, but she held onto her son, her hijo.

And so the child prayed.

A tingling sensation flood through his arms and hands. He thought nothing of it.

* * *

 _Hark! Hark! for sure some foot-step's near me, Advancing, press the drifted snow, I die for food; oh! stranger, hear me, I die for food; some alms bestow; You see no guilty wretch implore you, No wanton kneels in feign'd despair, A famished Orphan kneels before you, Oh grant the famished Orphan's pray'r._

* * *

The child knocked weakly on the wooden door, praying for someone to answer.

Someone did. A man, not yet over thirty.

"Please, sir," the child spoke with a raspy voice from starvation and dehydration, "I am hungry, I am tired, I am cold. All I ask is one night and a simple dinner."

The reply was instantaneous- a door to the face.

"Please sir," he said through the door, "Anything, sir." He could sense the man was still standing there.

Suddenly, the door was thrown open and the orphan fell onto his knees at the stranger's feet. The man threw a loaf of bread and an apple at the child. They froze for a second in mid-air before hitting the orphan in the face. He decided it was simply an hallucination.

"Thank you, sir." and the door was in his face once more.

* * *

 _The frozen streets in moonshine glitter, The midnight hour has long been past, Ah me! the wind blows keen and bitter, I sink beneath the piercing blast. In ev'ry vein seems life to languish, Their weight my limbs no more can bear, But no one sooths the Orphan's anguish, And no one hears the Orphan's pray'r._

* * *

The winds started slow, it was a simple storm at first. Just rain. But the speeds picked up and they got louder and louder. The rain got heavier. The two of them combined became a hurricane

The orphan grabbed a ribbon and ran upstairs, making sure to snatch his writing materials on the way.

He didn't end up writing, instead was huddled into the corner, crying his lungs out when an especially loud bit of wind hit the unstable house.

There were screams outside. Alexander hated it. He wanted to go, he wanted to leave the island, he wanted to see his mother, he needed to-

he needed to write. So he picked up a quill and, despite his fears, wrote. To his father. About the hurricane. He prayed for the hurricane to stop. And, though he was sure to deny it if asked, the sounds of the hurricane were quiet. The house still rocked.

Perhaps he was in the eye. Perhaps.

* * *

 _He's gone, no mercy man will show me, In prayers no more I'll waste my breath._

* * *

John was dead.

It couldn't be.

Why must it be?

But alas the letter was true, the father spoke no lie. His dearest Laurens was gone.

No more prayers, seeing as they do no good. They took his mother and his friend - his lover.

In a fit of anger, both at himself and at John, for how dare he leave- Alexander screamed into a pillow that was in his hands. He tore his letter drafts to John seeing as they'd come in no use. He tugged at his hair, causing it to fall down past his shoulders. He almost broke his writing desk.

A quill snapped into two in front of his eyes, without him touching it.

Well, he _had_ smacked the table.

No more prayers. They do _nothing_.

"I have so much work to do."

* * *

 **POEM IS NOT MINE  
**

 **2009/02/24/orphans-in-rhyme-and-old-style-print/**

 **Spanish is probably wrong, I used google translate. Here's the translation anyway:**

 **m'ijo = my son**  
 **Orar a Dios y todo desaparecerá = pray to god and everything will disappear**  
 **hijo = son**

 **I'm actually an atheist lmao**


	2. Quills

**alright. I did research, apparently in 1790 there was a wizarding law called Rappaport's Law (stupidly, I decided to set this story one year after), which basically bans intermarriage or friendship between no-majes and wizards/witches.**  
 **I have figured this out. explanation in end notes.**

 **yo, did you know Americans had to have a wand permit? not in this time period though, that was established in the late 19th century (thank god, I did /not/ want to write that in)**

 **wiki/Elizabeth_Schuyler_Hamilton wikipedia can be a blessing**  
 **did you know that Eliza and Alexander adopted a child for eight years? she was called Fanny Antill. adorable 3 I'm gonna have to write that in somewhow**

* * *

Alexander was extremely grateful for a split second that his family was visiting Philip Schuyler, because the first thing he did that morning after waking up from a rare night's sleep was scream. The cause of this being the fact that every single quill- by the looks of it, anyway- was floating above his bed.

With curse words flying out of his mouth he jumped out of bed and sprinted towards his office. He slammed the door behind him.

Leaning against the door, he thought for a second about grabbing some clothing to put on, but immediately decided against it when he heard the sound of many, many quills hitting the door behind him.

He leaped away, making sure the door was locked, then turned towards his writing desk in which he proceeded to write a letter (with the only quill in which had not come to life, for plot reasons luckily) to his dear Betsey.

 _My dearest Betsey,_

 _I awoke to the most strange sight today- and you must not think me mad for it, for I am sure it was not an hallucination- my quills were being suspended from the ceiling by thin air. Nothing was holding them! Now, I am not one for believing in spirits, nor would I be accepting of such things in our home, but...what if one of the deceased were trying to contact me? Do you have any idea of who it might be if this were the case? I am certain no one we know has recently passed, who previously owned this place?_

 _My dear Betsey if this is not the dead speaking then I am stumped. For what else could it be? Surely not spells and the like from childhood stories speak the truth? For it is impossible, is it not? The Witch Trials were abolished long ago, for it was proven a false superstition._

 _Oh Eliza, what on Earth could this be? I do not wish for it to be a Spirit though I am more leaning towards that possibility. But if not that then what?_

 _My girl, am I going mad?_

 _A short letter, I'm afraid. I must clothe myself and be rid of these pesky quills._

 _Do not think me mad, I beg._

 _Ever yours,_  
 _Alexander_

Though he was unsatisfied with the length of the letter, he finished it off anyway. He had more pressing issues- like getting rid of the darn quills.

He noticed with a start that the constant ratta-tat-tat of the quills had silenced, leaving Alexander thinking for a second that maybe he was mad and it was all just a part of his imagination. But this statement was proven wrong when he noticed a bit of feather poking out from underneath the door. It was trying to get in.

Going with the superstitious part of his mind, he stared directly at the door and said, "Is anyone there?" and he hoped dearly that no one would answer. He did not need a ghost inside his house, thank you.

Maybe he was going mad. Maybe it _was_ an hallucination. _God, you've never seen a bastard orphan more in need of a break..._

Cautiously approaching the door, Alexander reached out for the doorknob and turned it ever so slightly. No response. He twisted it all the way. Nothing. With one final burst of courage, he braced himself for impact and swung the door open.

Nothing.

He opened his clenched eyes and glanced down at the floor, where his quills were lying, immobile. Certainly _not_ floating and plotting to murder him.

Leaning down, he picked up the one closest to him and examined it, turning it over in his hand. He waved it in the air.

He then proceeded to pick up the rest of his quills, eventually reaching the point that he was dropping them in the process, but he managed to successfully bundle them up in his arms. He placed them on the floor of his office because they would simply roll off his desk, it being on an angle. Only then did the author he realise that simply pushing them over would have been much, much easier.

 _Oh well._ he thought.

* * *

Alexander spent the rest of the day, after getting dressed, checking around the house to make sure nothing else was going to suddenly begin moving instead of working. He glared at his fork when he accidentally dropped it onto the ground, as though it were actually the fork's idea of a practical joke. He poked the cushion on the couch. He didn't even touch the quills. They were evil.

He jumped at the slightest of sounds and was constantly ready to fight someone. Or something. He was extremely aware of his surroundings.

However nothing superstitious happened the whole day- until he was getting ready for bed. He didn't want to write now- he didn't want to go anywhere near those quills.

Alex had just slipped into his nightgown when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a pillow disappear. He was still... he didn't dare move. That damn pillow had disappeared into thin air.

His heartbeat was loud in his own ears, he wondered if his neighbours could hear it- "I will ask again. Is anyone there?" he said into the dark room. Silence.

"Is anyone there?" he said a little louder.

He felt insane, this was stupid- god, he was really off his rockers wasn't he? There was no such thing as ghosts, he was just crazy and needed to be locked up or something!

He needed Eliza, he needed his dear Betsey...

As of the moment, however, there was only one thing he could do.

* * *

"Mr Burr, sir!"

"Alexander!"

Hamilton smiled tiredly at Burr, who was glaring in return.

"It's the middle of the night! What could you possibly want?" Burr hissed.

It was then that Alexander put on a grim face. "I need help. I think I'm going mad."

Burr stared at him in shock.

"What do you mean?"

"Can I come in?"

After a moment of hesitation, Burr opened the door wider and let Alexander in. "Tell me what happened. And don't take too long."

"Alright, so, yesterday I decided I might actually _try_ to sleep because otherwise I'd probably die... so I fell asleep in my bed for once and got a full night's sleep which was rare-"

"Get to the point."

Alexander took a deep breath.

"Alright. But Burr, I must ask of you one thing."

"What?"

"Don't attempt to lock me up for hallucinations."

"...alright."

Alexander walked towards Burr's couch and sat down slowly.

"I woke this morning... in bed... to see quills floating in mid air."

Silence.

"What the hell?"

* * *

 **In regard to the letter: I can't write like Hamilton, what did you expect**

 **alright, explanation.**  
 **Eliza is a witch, and Alexander is a wizard, but Eliza doesn't know he's a wizard**  
 **so they got married, Eliza was thinking all their children would be half-blood and she'd need to tell him eventually, but never gets around to it**  
 **then Rappaports Law rolled around in 1790 which basically made their marriage illegal**  
 **but because Eliza and Ham were already married before that, MACUSA let them stay together**  
 **HO-kay now that's taken care of -wipes sweat off forehead-**

 **info from this website from heaven: features/differences-between-north-american-and-british-wizards**


	3. Insane

"Burr, you have to believe me-"

"Get out."

"I'm not lying."

"Go home."

"Burr-"

"SLEEP."

Alexander's pleas were answered to a door to the face. This brought him back to many years ago, but he did his best to ignore the memories.

Tired, and cold, Alexander walked sulkily back home to where more strange shenanigans was bound to happen.

It began to rain.

 _Typical._

Now tired, cold, and soaking wet, Alexander slugged back to his house. From a passerby's point of view, Alex would look like a hormonal teenager who just threw a tantrum. Well...

Alex began to hastily unlock the door, but halted when he heard a crash from inside. Nothing was heard except for the rain and Alexander's heartbeat from inside his chest.

He didn't want to call out in fear of someone else hearing him, so instead, he slowly turned the doorknob. He pushed it open.

Nothing. Silence.

 _You're just paranoid. It was just a vase that was too close to the edge.. and it fell._

Hamilton cautiously peered around the corner into the kitchen, then glared at the stairs, then actually stepped into his house.

 _I need coffee_.

 _I need to write._

Alex made his coffee (which was taking much too long, he need his coffee and he needed it _now_ dammit!), then took his mug to his office in which he almost stepped on the quills he had placed there earlier.

"Dammit."

He picked up one of the quills, examined it, shrugged, and sat down at his desk. He wrote well into morning.

 _I have to get my plan through congress. I can't stop until I get this plan through congress._

* * *

The next morning, Alex woke up at his desk with ink splattered all over his hands and face. His back was in pain plus his left leg had fallen asleep from being tucked under the chair.

He stood slowly from the chair then leaned on his right leg as to give his left time to wake up properly. It tingled like mad. When it had stopped tingling and Alex was able to move it properly he walked out of his office to go fix himself some more coffee.

While the coffee was brewing, Alexander reflected on the events of the past day- the quills, that pillow, and Burr slamming the door in his face.

Maybe he did need to sleep. Just like Burr said. "SLEEP." Maybe he was truly going insane from the lack of sleep. But this only happened after a full night's sleep, usually that was enough to keep Alexander alert for at least a week more, and he usually got some sleep at his desk if he just passed out- so that couldn't be it. He was eating fine if you counted an apple or two a day as "fine", and dehydration wasn't an issue either. So what the bloody hell was causing this? It couldn't be real. It was impossible- completely and utterly impossible. There was no such thing as bloody floating quills and disappearing pillows- he was going insane. Alexander was truly off his rockers.


	4. Miss Maria Reynolds

_I hadn't slept in a week, I was weak, I was awake- you've never seen a bastard orphan more in need of a break. Longing for Angelica, missing my wife, that's when Miss Maria Reynolds walked into my life._

* * *

Alexander was writing, as usual, desperately trying not to think about the quills from earlier, when someone knocked on his door.

Sighing tiredly, he stood to open the door, dragging his feet along the way.

 _Who would be here at this time of night?_

Slowly Alex opened the door, and raised an eyebrow at the woman in front of him.

"I know you are a man of honour, I'm so sorry to bother you Sir... I came here alone, I don't know where to go-" the woman looked desperate and her cheeks were wet with tears, "My husband was doing me wrong... he beated me and cheated me, generally mistreated me- and then he left, sir! I don't have any means to go on-"

* * *

 _I offered her a loan I offered to walk her home, she said; "You're too kind, sir."_

* * *

Alexander immediately took pity on the poor girl. No woman should be treated with such disrespect.

He grabbed thirty bucks from his room and offered to walk her back home.

* * *

 _I gave her thirty bucks that I had stocked away, she lived a block away, she said; "This one's mine sir.."_

* * *

"This one's mine, sir." the girl pointed at the house sat on the street.

Alex walked her up to her own door. "Well I should get back home.."

* * *

 _She turned red, she led me to her bed let her legs spread and said; "Stay."_

* * *

"I want you to stay."

"I really must be going."

"Please, sir!" the girl ran to her door and slammed it shut. She locked it. "I can't let you do that."

Slowly, she approached Alex, her hands placed seductively on her hips. "Stay." her voice was almost sing-song.

* * *

 _Lord, show me how to say no to this, how can I say no to this?_

* * *

This poor girl had been beaten and cheated by her husband, left for dead. This poor girl was in tears- why did her tears _seduce_ him so?

* * *

 _My God she looks so helpless, and her body's sayin' "hell yes"._

She was shaking now. Red in the face. Sobbing. She grabbed his hand.

* * *

 _Oh, show me how to say no to this,_ _ **how**_ _can I say no to this? In my mind I'm tryin' to go (go go)_

* * *

He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be doing this. This was wrong. Someone would find out. He'd be ruined. Reputation gone. Legacy poisoned.

* * *

 _Then her mouth is on mine and I don't say_

* * *

 **No!**

* * *

Alex woke the next day in a bed that was not his own. He panicked for a second, then the memories of the night before came flooding back and he groaned.

 _No..._

Yes. He had just cheated on his wife- his dear Betsey. He should've said no, why didn't he just say no?

Alex felt movement beside him. He looked to his right and saw the girl- Maria Reynolds, he had learned- sleeping peacefully. A bruise located just above her left eye. More pity flooded his senses, and he reached out his hand to brush her hair away but stopped.

No. This was wrong. He couldn't stay.

Alex stood from the bed, grabbed his discarded clothes then swiftly changed into them, making sure he wasn't being too loud.

"Sir?"

Shite. He had woken her.

"I have to go."

"No sir please stay."

"I have work to do."

"Please?"

"I'm sorry."

He turned and left.

* * *

Though the guilt was unbearable, Alexander continued to visit Maria Reynolds. Each day he said to himself, "No. I will not continue this affair any longer." and yet each day he found himself in her bed rather than his own. It became a daily routine.

Write.

Visit Maria.

Stay with Maria.

Wake up in the morning next to Maria.

Go home.

Repeat.

He did not miss a single day, and that just made him feel even worse. With his wife and children, he hardly took out any time from his work and at the worst ignored them, but with Maria he went out of his way to go to her place rather than writing.

He felt sick.

And there was the problem of the mysteriously floating and disappearing objects. Once his hair-ribbon undid itself and curled itself around Alexander's wrist. He screamed and shook it off, leaving his hair undone for the rest of the week.

Then, one day, he received a letter from a mister James Reynolds, even better! It said;

 _Sir_

 _I am very sorry to find out that I have been so Cruelly treated by a person that I took to be my best friend instead of that my greatest Enimy. You have deprived me of every thing thats near and dear to me, I discovred whenever I Came into the house. after being out I found Mrs Reynolds weeping I ask'd her the Cause of being so unhappy. She always told me that she had bin Reding. and she could not help Crying when she Red any thing that was Afecting. but seing her Repeatedly in that Setevation gave me some suspicion to think that was not the Cause, as fortain would have it. before matters was Carred to two great a length. I discovered a letter directed to you which I copied of and put it in the place where I found it. without being discovered by Her. and then the evining after. I was Curious anough to watch her. and see give a letter to a Black man in Markett Street. which I followed Him to your door. after that I Returned home some time in the evening, and I broutched the Matter to her and Red the Coppy to her which she fell upon her knees and asked forgiveness and discovered every thing to me Respecting the matter And ses that she was unhappy. and not knowing what to do without some assistance. She Called on you for the lone of some money. which you toald her you would Call on her the Next Evening. which accordingly you did. and there Sir you took the advantage a poor Broken harted woman. instead of being a Friend. you have acted the part of the most Cruelist man in existance. you have made a whole family miserable. She ses there is no other man that she Care for in this world. now Sir you have bin the Cause of Cooling her affections for me. She was a woman. I should as soon sespect an angiel from heven. and one where all my happiness was depending. and I would Sacrefise almost my life to make her Happy. but now I am determed to have satisfation. it shant be onely one [f]amily thats miserable. for I am Robbed of all happiness in this world I am determed to leve her. and take my daughter with me that She shant see her poor mother Lot. now Sir if I Cant see you at your house call and see me. for there is no person that Knowes any thing as yet. And I am tiremd to see you, by some Means or other. for you have made me an unhappy man for eve. put it to your own case and Reflect one Moment. that you should know shush a thing of your wife. would not you have satisfaction yes. and so will I before one day passes me more._

 _I am yours_

 _James Reynolds._

And Alex panicked.

Though it was hard to tell from the man's awful writing, it seemed he was demanding money from him.

Blackmailing him.

The situation quickly dawned on Alexander, and in a rage he ran to Maria's house, slamming the door wide open and stomping towards her.

"How could you!?" he screamed in her face.

She said, _"No, sir!"_

She was _half dressed, apologetic, a mess. She looked pathetic_ as _she cried_ , _"Please don't go sir!"_

"So _your whole story was a set up?"_

 _"I don't know about any letter-"_ she sank to her knees attempting to grab Alex's.

 _"Stop crying, goddammit, get up!"_ Alex yelled down at her.

 _"I didn't know any better!"_ she screamed.

 _"I am ruined-"_

 _"Please don't leave me with him-"_

 _"How could I do this?"_ Alex stood with his back facing her, head in hands.

 _"Just give him what he wants and you can have me!"_

 _"I don't want you!"_ he screamed at her.

"Sir, _whatever you want-"_

 _"I don't want you!_ "

 _"If you pay, you can stay!"_

Stay. As Alex had done so many times before.

Stay.

* * *

 _Then her body's on mine and I don't say.. no._

 _Nobody needs to know._


	5. The Room Where It Happens

Alexander wasn't sure his life could get any weirder. Thomas Jefferson... willing to _compromise?_ Certainly, he was dreaming when Thomas approached him with that sly smile plastered on his face and his swagger walk.

"Mr. Hamilton," he said with his southern drawl.

"Mr. Jefferson," Alex countered, glaring up at the taller man.

"James Madison thought up a most _excellent_ idea regarding your debt plan," the emphasised 'excellent' implying he truly didn't think it excellent at all, "He suggested you come over for dinner. To _talk_ it through. He wishes to... compromise."

Alex pinched his arm to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

"Compromise?"

"Yes. Something in exchange for your debt plan. We haven't quite yet figured out _what_ , however."

"And when will this dinner be taking place?"

"Tonight. 8'o'clock. Be there, or I will personally cut off your head and place it on a pole."

"Deal."

* * *

Waiting for 8'o'clock was _hell_. Sure, he could write but he found he'd written all there was to write at the moment. He had yet to receive a reply from Eliza. It's not as though she would give up on him and declare him mad, right? No, Betsey wouldn't do that.

Right?

Right.

* * *

Surprisingly, after drinking some coffee and attempting to make his bed (Eliza always did that), the time passed rather quickly. He found 8'o'clock had arrived sooner than he expected it might.

So he changed his clothes into something slightly more _professional_ and made his way to Jefferson's house.

"Mr. Jefferson," Alex said curtly when the man himself opened the door.

"Mr. Hamilton," Jefferson replied with mock politeness, "Do come in, dinner has already been made."

"Of course."

Alex entered the small apartment, glancing around at the surroundings- a coat hook seated on the wall holding a magenta coat that Jefferson wore when the two first met. Hideous.

Jefferson led Alex to the dining room, where James Madison was already waiting patiently. Well, it was hard to tell whether he was impatient or not, the man never showed any emotion. It was honestly slightly scary, you never truly know what side he is on.

What lay on the table... was one of the strangest meals Alexander had ever seen. He stared at it curiously.

Jefferson must have noticed his staring because he explained what it was.

"Macaroni and cheese. French dish."

"Right."

Jefferson walked to the opposite side of the table then sat next to Madison, who looked like a dwarf next to the taller man.

Alex sat across from them.

They began to eat first in silence. The food was, Alex must admit, quite good. Cheesy.

After the food was practically _devoured_ (hey, it was really good) they finally began to speak.

Alexander was not truly listening to Jefferson or Madison, he sort of tuned them out after the first two sentences.

He stayed silent. Pretended to listen. _Smiled_.

Yes, he was taking Burr's advice now.

 _Talk less smile more._

Alex figured it may just work, _may_ , if he tolerated Jefferson for a night. He may finally be able to pass the debt plan Madison had been blocking.

 _I could save America_ he thought to himself _That could be my legacy_.

There was only one problem. Not at all cause for alarm... no need to panic... it was just the matter of a floating fork.

It first began to lift up at the handle, so Alex didn't notice it at first. However then it lifted up at the other end and he finally saw it.

 _No reason to scream just pick up the fork and carefully place it back down aga-_

He screeched.

 _I thought this would stop!_

Jefferson and Madison looked at him curiously and Alex panicked for a moment, remembering that it was all probably in his head, but then Madison leaped out of his chair because the fork had suddenly skyrocketed.

So it wasn't in his head after all.

Jefferson looked extremely afraid for a moment, beginning to reach into his pocket to grab something, but Hamilton never found out what it was because the fork dropped back onto Hamilton's plate.

James was back up against the wall with wide eyes, while Jefferson stood with extreme fear evident in his eyes.

It was then that Jefferson reached back into his pocket and began to pull out some sort of _stick_ , however Alex didn't found out what he was going to do with it because he had run out of the house, sprinting back to his own.

 _They're going to follow me and call me a freak because of what I just did, god why am I like this-_

He was a freak.

The realisation hit him like a bullet.

A _freak_ of nature.

You see, after Alexander had decided against a poltergeist being the issue because he _knew_ ghosts weren't real, he came to the conclusion that he was somehow making these things happen.

He searched through his memories, trying to remember any other floating objects-

 _Suddenly, the door was thrown open and the orphan fell onto his knees at the stranger's feet. The man threw a loaf of bread and an apple at the child. They froze for a second in mid-air before hitting the orphan in the face. He decided it was simply an hallucination._

 _A quill snapped into two in front of his eyes, without him touching it._

And if it could also snap things, that meant it could do other things too, like-

 _he needed to write. So he picked up a quill and, despite his fears, wrote. To his father. About the hurricane. He prayed for the hurricane to stop. And, though he was sure to deny it if asked, the sounds of the hurricane were quiet. The house still rocked._

and surely, when they were sick-

 _"It's okay, m'ijo. Orar a Dios y todo desaparecerá."_

 _The mother could slowly feel herself slipping away, but she held onto her son, her hijo._

 _And so the child prayed._

 _A tingling sensation flood through his arms and hands. He thought nothing of it._

This... well, "ability" was what kept him alive all those years ago. It saved him. But not his mother... it didn't save his mother...

 _My god_ this was his fault.

All his fault.

 _A freak_.

Alexander had been called many things in his life but never a freak. He hated it. Names like 'little bastard' were things he could handle, but freak? It was like someone insulted him, his family, and George Washington all at once. It stabbed his confidence and ripped it apart slowly, creating a giant hole where his self-esteem once was.

Someone was knocking on his door. Alex didn't want to answer. He wanted to hide from the world. He wanted to coop himself up in his office and not come out for days.

But his feet had other plans.

James Madison stood on the step. The last person Hamilton wanted to see. "Alexander... Thomas is willing to pass your debt plan."

"What."

"In exchange for the capital."

 _"What."_

They had already worked it out? In the thirty minutes or so he was gone?

"I thought so too... it's a bit weird for Thomas... and it was out of the blue, too. He just knocked on my door and said, "Tell Hamilton that we can pass the debt plan if we first move the Capital to on the Potamac River." I don't know why he suddenly-"

"What do you mean you "don't know why"?" Alex interrupted, "We were just talking about this."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Madison, we were literally just talking about this. At Jefferson's place. Thirty minutes ago."

"Uh. We were?"

"Don't play tricks on me, Madison. Are you saying you don't remember? From THIRTY minutes ago?"

"I assure you, Alexander, thirty minutes ago I was reading by the fireplace-"

"At Jefferson's house?"

"At my house!"

The two stared at each other for a moment.

Alex took a deep breath.

"Okay." he whispered. "Okay. So Jefferson wants to change the capital? Cool. Fine with me. Just as long as I get my debt plan... _fine._ "

And so he got the debt plan. The capital was moved.

And it was all _fine_.


	6. Vague Reply

Alexander spent the days cooped up in his office writing. If he wasn't writing, which was rarely, he would be rethinking every life choice he ever made in the corner.

There was nothing he wanted than his dear Eliza's return. He wanted to embrace her, sniff her strawberry scented hair, lift her up in the air and spin her around until she was dizzy. But she was not here. She was with her father... and my god Alexander had cheated on her. He had betrayed her- "be true" her father had said, and he somehow messed that up. He let himself fall prey to the Maria girl in a pretty red dress.

Alexander had been drinking his coffee with a shaking hand when he heard someone knocking on the door. He had been in complete solitude for a week after he had snapped at one of the maids. Truly he needed to see another human being now, but all the same he really just wanted to curl up under his desk and die.

Again, his feet got him off his chair and to the front door, where a black man named Barnabe was waiting with the post. Barnabe always delivered the Hamilton post.

"Letter for you, sir. From your wife it is, sir." Finally, it had arrived. Perhaps it got lost in the mail?

Alexander's heartbeat quickened.

"Thank you Barnabe," Alex managed to croak out. _God, I haven't spoken in a week..._

Taking the letter from Barnabe, Alexander walked shakily back up to his office, attempting to open the letter on the way but finding his hands were too shaky... he sat down at his desk before practically ripping it open.

 _Dearest, Alexander_

 _I will explain everything upon my arrival back home. I'm afraid I cannot send you detail in this letter in the fear that one other than yourself should read it._

 _your loving wife, Eliza Hamilton_

And that is when Alexander's heart nearly stopped because Eliza knew something Alexander did not. She _knew_ something, and it freaked Alex out.

Straight away he began to write his own reply.

 _My dearest Betsey,_

 _Of course, I understand you wish to be cautious, my girl, however, my curiosity is getting the better of me. Betsey, what have you been withholding from me? We are married, are we not? Husbands and wives such as ourselves should not be keeping secrets from the other._

Alex thought of Maria.

 _I have come to the conclusion it is not a poltergeist because that would be silly._

 _My girl... I was having dinner with Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Madison to talk about my debt plan, and this fork began to fly. I now know it is certainly not all on my head, because Mr. Madison had nearly fallen off his chair. Mr. Jefferson seemed terrified._

 _Am I causing these things to happen, Eliza? Is it because of me that fork had flown?_

 _Floating objects aside, I miss you. Dearly. Every night you visit my dreams and when I wake I do not open my eyes so I am not having to leave your sweet embrace._

 _I feel anxious and alone_

 _I feel sad and restless_

 _I feel irritated and annoyed_

 _I feel deprived of happiness_

 _All of this and a lot worse_

 _Is what I feel when we're apart_

 _From a deep red to a murky black_

 _Has gone, the colour of my heart_

 _Missing you has created a void_

 _Silent and painfully agonizing_

 _When it comes to you,_

 _Baby, it's all or nothing..._

 _Yrs forever, A. Hamilton_

Alex sent it off, then collapsed onto a kitchen chair. He placed his head in the palms of his hands and groaned.

 _I want Eliza..._ he thought. _I need to see her again..._

And once more his thoughts drifted to Maria and he cringed.

He was having an affair. Yes, that was a suitable word. Cheating is for naive teens who don't know what heartbreak feels like- but 'affair' was dark. Horrible. Unspeakable.

A scandal. That's what it would become if he was not careful. If he wasn't discreet.

He should break it off. He should pay Mr. Reynolds and halt his visits to Maria altogether. Never think of her curves, her messy hair, or her chocolate eyes ever again. Never think of how- when she was not paying attention, the bit of hair slicked back from her face would fall down. Never think of how seductive she was when she wanted to be, never, _ever,_ think of her again.

Yet no matter how hard Alexander tried, he could not get this girl out of his head.

 _I'm not in love with her_ he would tell himself. But truly he felt the same way towards this girl that he did to Laurens all those years ago... and the thought of it made him want to vomit.

And he did.

* * *

Alexander didn't usually cry. When he was upset, he would mostly yell and throw a few things. But he didn't _cry_. The last time he remembered crying was when the hurricane struck, but that was out of fear. Not sadness. Or _guilt_.

On this night, however, Alex cried. All the emotions that had been building up inside him since he was a teen burst out of him like a volcano. He didn't know how long he was crying for, but he eventually quieted down enough to be able to hear someone knocking on his door.

He leaped from his chair, hastily wiped away any stray tears, smoothed out his clothes then sprinted towards the door yelling "I'm coming! Wait a minute!" it hurt his throat.

Alex threw the door open and was extremely surprised to see _Aaron Burr_ of all people staring back at him.

"Aaron Burr?"

"Sir. Are you alright? I... well, I was walking down the road and I heard... you were crying, Alexander?" Burr heard him? From _outside_ the house?

"No." damnit, his reply was too instantaneous, obviously a lie.

"What has upset you? Forgive me for being so worried-"

"Go away."

Alex slammed the door in Burr's face, stomping back upstairs.

"Goddamn Burr, thinking he can goddamn help me after goddamn throwin' me out of his goddamn house- none of his concern anyway. Nosy Burr... ought to mind his own goddamn business."

Alex sniffed, his nose runny from the crying. God, his eyes stung too- he wouldn't be able to write with his eyes bothering him like th-

the stinging stopped.

Alex froze.

 _Oh no._ He'd done it again. His nose had dried up, his eyes were no longer stinging, and he didn't feel any dried tears on his face. That _thing_ had acted again.

It was getting out of hand. Maybe he should just lock himself up, never emerge again- never again see the light of day- but then he'd go mad, truly.

The best thing he could do was wait for his dearest Eliza to return. And then- then- maybe he could try and break things off with Maria. Pay James, stop seeing Maria, and nobody needs to know anything. Simple, right? Right. Shouldn't be... too hard...

Alex grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, then began to write a plan for after Eliza's return-

 _Number one_

 _embrace Eliza, kiss Eliza, hug children, say I missed them_

 _Number two_

 _spend the night with Eliza NO WRITING_

 _Number three_

 _pay James Reynolds quarterly, as to not raise suspicion_

 _Number four_

 _write Maria Mrs Reynolds a letter saying I wish to stop seeing her_

 _explain that I am a married man and that I do not love her_

 _she will understand?_

Yes. It was simple enough. The money would be hard to get, but he'd manage. Paying quarterly will also give him enough time to gain the right amount... a thousand wasn't too much once he thought about it. Not too much...

* * *

It was much too quiet in the house now. There was no Philip running around, chasing Angelica, no screaming baby at night. No Eliza yelling at Alexander to come downstairs, either to have dinner or to help with the children. Yes, much too quiet. He never liked the quiet before... and he wasn't about to start.

He feared a walk downtown would just cause problems, but he went anyway. He needed to get out or he'd probably go insane.

Alex slowly opened the door and peered outside, making sure Burr wasn't still lingering. When Burr was nowhere in sight, he exited the house and made his way to the market. Maybe he could buy some more apples. That seemed to be the only thing he ate while Eliza wasn't here...

He approached a fruit stall off to the side, peering over the apples, deciding on whether he should take red or green ones. He asked the seller's opinion.

"The green ones are a bit sour if ya ask me. But the red ones ain't. I say the red ones are ya best bet. Of course, it all depends which ya prefer, dunnit?"

Alex trusted the seller and bought a bag of red apples. He continued to walk through the market, occasionally stopping at something that caught his eye.

"How much is this necklace?" Alex asked the young man, who was seemingly drawing.

"Would you be able to afford it?" so, clearly, the man was not in a good mood.

"If you would tell me the price I could decipher that fact."

"You don't look like you'd be able to afford it."

Well excuse him!

"Christopher! That's no way to treat a customer!" a short girl approached the stall, then turned to Alex, "I'm sorry about my brother. He's in a bad mood."

They did indeed look like siblings. Both had black hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. Only the girl's hair was long and curly, and her eyes were light blue while the boy's were dark blue.

The only major difference was height. The girl seemed to be around 5'2, and the boy looked about six feet. But it was hard to tell when he was sitting down.

"Hang on, you're Alexander Hamilton, aren't you? My brother- my other brother, James- he loves your work!"

Well, when Alexander left the house he was not expecting flattery, but hey, he'd take it.

"Really?" Alex smiled, "Tell him I said thank you."

"Would it be too much trouble if you thanked him yourself?" before Alex could answer, the girl ran towards another store that was selling books. A taller curly-haired blond was standing there.

She pointed back at Alex, and James' eyes widened. They walked back together.

Mr. Hamilton! I'm James Farnes. It's an honour to meet you, sir!"

"And you as well." they shook hands.

"What's your profession?" Alex asked James, who looked giddy with excitement.

"Oh- I don't really have a job yet. But I want to be a mathematician... I-I read all about your financial plan! I think it's genius."

James then went on to explain exactly _why_ it was genius, then began talking about other unrelated math things. It became very clear to Alexander that this James Farnes was a maths prodigy.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a maths genius, Mr. Farnes?"

James halted, staring at Alex in shock. "N-No. You think so?"

"Certainly. You become a mathematician, James. The job would suit you."

The blond made an inhuman noise, then ran over to his brother.

Alex turned to the girl. "It would be improper of me to leave without knowing your name."

"Jennifer Farnes, just call me Jen." she held out her hand for Alex to kiss. He did as such.

"And you may call me Alexander if we meet again." Alex flashed her a winning smile.

( **alex you fukking flirt)**

"That I will. Now, how about that necklace, Mr. Hamilton?"

* * *

Alex left the market with a fresh bag of apples and a necklace for Eliza upon her return.

It was a pretty thing. Not too fancy. It was light green, to match the dress she usually wore.

Jen had let him have it for half price if he promised to visit for Christmas. She said all three of them would appreciate it. Even Christopher- who was usually not in such a bad mood. Said man turned out to be _six foot four_ at theage of twenty-three- that was baffling to Alexander. James was also twenty-three, at five foot ten. The two of them were twins. Then Jennifer was three years older than the both of them, at twenty-five. 5'2. For a little while the two of them complained about being short to eachother.

They were a lovely little family. The parents had died young, leaving Jennifer to take care of both her brothers at the age of fifteen. But she still, remarkably, wasn't married. She had confessed to Alex; "I only ever fell for another once, though I did not love him for his body. I wanted him for his personality. And when I did not give him what he desired- well, I don't speak to him anymore. And I have not fallen for anyone since. I have no need for romance in my life- after all, I have the love of my brothers, do I not?"

A smart woman. She reminded Alex of Angelica.

 _Maybe_ Alex thought, _Maybe once my wife and Angelica return everything will go back to normal._


	7. Many Happy Confusing Returns

Alexander was expecting a wave of happiness and relief upon his wife's return but all he felt was guilt. Especially considering the grim look on her face.

She never replied to the second letter he sent her, so Alex was left in the dark for another week. Left alone to his thoughts, his guilt, his pain.

"Eliza!" he yelled in forced glee.

She replied with a genuine smile. Precious smile.

The couple hugged the life out of each other, not wanting to let go, but they had to because the kids wanted hugs too. And of course, Alexander hugged them all at once.

"I missed you all!" that he did. Dearly. "So much..."

"Daddyyyyyy!"

The whole family entered the house (with much difficulty, as all the kids were trying to get through the door at the same time), then Angelica followed in afterward. Alex began to question why she was here, but he caught Eliza's stare and kept quiet.

"Kids, why don't you all play upstairs- be careful!- your father, aunt, and I are just going to talk for a little while."

Ah, yes. The _explanation._

Now finally Alexander would discover what he'd been so desperate to know.

The kids ran upstairs, yelling at eachother along the way. Eliza turned to Alex. "I suppose you're expecting an explanation." she said.

Alex nodded his head.

She sighed. "You may want to sit down."

Alex stared curiously at her, but did as she asked anyway.

"Angelica and I have been thinking about what you say happened."

They think he's mad.

"And we believe you."

 _What?_

"What?"

"But we need you to try and make it happen again. With us here. Can you do that, Alexander?"

He wasn't sure if he could.

"I can't do it on purpose- it just happens." he muttered, "I don't know how to control it."

"That's alright. But you need to _try_. For us, Alexander?" Angelica said, staring back at him with wide eyes.

"I-I can try." he agreed.

"Good. Try lifting this quill." Eliza pulled out a quill from her hip-pocket then placed it on the kitchen table.

Alex stared at it. Willing for something to happen.

Nothing did. It remained still. Just a quill. **(that rhymed I'm lin in disguise tell yo kids tell yo wife)**

"I don't understand what I'm supppsed to do to make it happen. It just-"

"-happens," Angellca interrupted, "We know."

"Then what am I supppsed to do!?" Alex raised his voice slightly, but hopefully not loud enough that the kids could hear it.

Eliza sighed then shared a glance with Angelica. They seemed to have a silent conversation with each other. Alex always wondered how they did that...

"Alright," Angelica finally said. She reached into her own hip pocket and pulled out a stick. _Much similar to the one Jefferson was holding_.

"Jefferson had one of those! When the fork flew he pulled out a stick like that. What is it?"

Eliza stared at Alex in shock. "Mr. Thomas Jefferson? He had one of those?"

"Yes. It had a pretty pattern on it, like that one. Do you have one too, Betsey?"

She nodded hesitantly.

"It's very pretty."

Angelica held out hers for, presumably, Alex to take. He did as such.

"From this moment on you will do exactly as I say without questioning anything, do you understand, Alexander?" Angelica stared into his eyes.

"Okay?" he wasn't too sure about this.

"Point it at the quill."

Alex tried to but Angelica told him he was doing it wrong.

"No no no, here-" she moved his fingrs so he was gripping it like a child would hold a quill for the first time, "Good. Now, do a little 'swish and flick' movement with your wrist."

He tried.

"You're doing it wrong. Eliza, show him."

Eliza pulled out her own stick- a birch wood one with pretty flowers decorating it.

She demonstrated the swish and flick movement, and Alex copied her.

"Good. Now... this may sound crazy but you need to trust us. Say this exact word- repeat after me- _wingardium leviosa."_

 _What?_

"I don't underst-"

"Do not question it, Alexander. Just say the word. _Wingardium leviosa_."

What atrocious pronunciation of Latin!

".. _Wingardium leviosa_. You know you're not pronouncing it ri-"

"Okay, now combine all three things. Point, swish and flick, _wingardium leviosa_. You swish and flick while saying the word."

Alexander felt absolutely ridiculous **(ridikulus)** doing what Angelica demanded, but he was curious and he wanted to see what would happen.

He pointed the stick at the quill, swished and flicked his wrist while saying the word, and oh.

 _Oh._

* * *

"I demand explanation!"

"If you stop yelling we will!"

After Alexander had made the quill float with that stick, he had freaked out and was currently on the opposite side of the room, screaming.

Over and over again he had demanded the sisters explain this anomaly, but they refused to until he had calmed down. He wasn't sure if he could.

He truly tried, honest. But every time he took a deep breath the exhale would turn into another squeal.

 _If that stick thing channels whatever this "ability" is does that mean that Angelica and Eliza- can they do it too!?_

"Can- can you do that too!?" Alex managed to say after getting over the initial shock.

"We can. Settle down and we'll tell you why."

Slowly Alexander approached the seat he was sitting on before, then sat down on it again. He looked expectantly up at his wife and sister-in-law.

"You have to promise not to freak out again, Alexander. You have to _promise."_ Angelica glared pointedly down at him.

"Okay, okay..."

This time, Eliza and Angelica pulled out their own chairs from under the table. They sat down, facing Alexander with identical expressions. It was almost scary.

Eliza spoke up suddenly, "You're a wizard, Alex."

.

.

.

"I'm... I'm a what?"

"A wizard. You know, a guy with magic and all that jazz. Like Merlin in the Arthurian Legends..."

"I know what a wizard is, Angelica. And I am not one. _They do not exist!_ "

"Then how do you explain what you just did? Work with us, Alexander!" Eliza's sudden change in tone caught Alex off-guard, and he stared at her.

"You're a wizard. And we're witches," she explained further.

Alexander's mind was in the process of imploding.

"You never thought to tell me?!"

"It's against the law! If we told you beforehand we could be severely punished. Put to death, even... we didn't know you were a wizard. We thought you were, what we call, a 'no-maj'. Someone without magic."

Alex took a deep breath. "O-Kay. And Peggy? What about her?"

"Oh she's a squib," Angelica said. At Alex's questioning stare she continued, "A no-maj born to magical parents. It's rare but it happens. She was always a bit jealous. But she dealt with it."

"Okay. Okay. What... this... it's a genetic thing, right? Being a wizard, or witch? You parents have to be magical too?"

"In most cases, yes, but there are no-maj-borns. Wizards or witches born to no-maj parents..." said Eliza.

"That's what we think you are. A no-maj-born." Angelica continued, "Unless either of your parents are magical?"

"I-I don't think so. If it were my mother I don't think she would've died. And my father... I wouldn't know, he left."

"Maybe it was your father. Then you'd be halfblood... well, we can look into it," said Eliza.

"What about our children?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Are our children magical, too? Because we both are?"

Eliza smiled. "Yes, they would be magical too. We would need to send them off to Ilvermorny- uh, American wizarding school. You attend at eleven years old, so Philip would be going in two years... And _yes,_ before you ask, girls go too. Angelica and I went."

"Would I be able to visit this school? Talk to the teachers?"

"We'll see. Now, how about you say hi to your children properly?"

* * *

Alexander spent the rest of the evening with his children, letting them chase him around the house. He avoided his office, not wanting to write now that his family was finally home. He'd been so lonely, and afraid. Like a dog when the owner was out.

Truly, that's what Alexander was, wasn't he? A yappy dog, who doesn't like to be left to his own devices for too long or he'll freak out.

"Daddy, come find me!" Philip yelled from his bedroom, "I bet you'll never find me!"

Alex remembered being like that as a child, too.

 _"Mommy, come find me! I bet you never will! I hide too well! Ha!"_

Like father like son, he supposed.

* * *

Alexander always had trouble getting to sleep, and this night was no exception. He truly did try. But his thoughts distracted him. He couldn't stop thinking.

"Are all our kids magical?"

"I think so, Alexander."

"Will our future kids be magical?"

"Probably, Alexander."

"Do you want to have more kids?"

"Not now, Alexander."

"What types of spells are there?"

"In the morning, Alexander."

"What if-"

"Go to sleep, Alexander."

He truly did try.

* * *

Alexander spent the next two days either playing with his children, writing for work, or profusely asking questions about wizarding things.

He asked about getting his own stick, to which Eliza replied, "One, it's a wand. Two, we'll see what we can do." but for the moment he was to practice with Angelica's if he wanted to. Of course, he was supervised like a child at all times in case he accidentally broke something.

"Eliza," Alexander said one day, while he was trying to lift a book (falling miserably), "if Jefferson had a wand too, is he a wizard?"

"Most likely. Angelica and I were discussing this and we've decided we're going to ask him. You know, it's odd he's still working in no-maj politics..."

"Why?"

"Wizards and witches aren't allowed to befriend or marry no-majes. So it's against the law for Secretary Jefferson to still be working under Washington. Maybe he's talking it out with MACUSA..."

"Who's Mac-oo-sah?"

"It's nothing. Breakfast?"


	8. Shoppin'

Though Alexander's brain was still trying to wrap around the fact that he was a wizard and has been as such for his entire life without realising, he was doing quite well, thank you. He was still accidentally making things float when stressed but he didn't freak out anymore, just shoved it down in annoyance. Philip was starting to notice these things, however.

"Eliza, should we tell Philip?" Alexander asked when he emerged from his writing cave.

"Tell him what?"

"That we're magical."

"Not yet, he might go telling. I'm sure he'll find out on his own when he starts doing accidental magic, though..."

So Alex kept quiet about it around the children, trying to train himself not to accidentally make his fork fly in the middle of dinner.

He eventually managed to turn five pages of a book with Angelica's wand (honestly, he was still wrapping his head around the fact that wands are a real thing), which he was quite proud about. It only took him three hundred swishes and flicks and three hundred wingardium leviosas. All in a row. Yes, he was quite proud.

Surprisingly, Alexander found he wasn't writing as much as he used to. He wanted to get back into his routine, though, his hand was always fidgeting when he wasn't scribbling down a pamphlet. He didn't like fidgeting because he usually ended up damaging his cuffs. It was a habit of his to pull on the fabric, which resulted in it unwinding.

Angelica offered to take Alexander down to get some magical books, and maybe even a wand. Of course, he hastily agreed. But Eliza screeched and announced she would come too because she needed some herbs for a potion, a _**potion**_ she wanted to make.

"A potion?"

"Just a brew to help with nightmares, you know little Angelica has been having them."

"But-?"

"There's a lot more you need to learn, Alexander... in due time."

There was indeed a lot to learn, but Alex had underestimated what Eliza meant by "a lot". "A lot" apparently meant "you're going to be struggling to fit this all in your brain".

* * *

It was a joy to Alexander again, and it was a joy to teach him about the wizarding community, but it was tiring. Over the summer, it seemed Eliza had forgotten how stubborn Alex could be. After recovering from the initial shock of discovering himself a wizard, he asked non-stop questions, even extending that to when he was supposed to be asleep. She tried to answer them all as best she could, but found it just got really, really annoying after a while. Eventually, she just avoided him when he looked like he was thinking really hard. Angelica could answer any questions he had now.

It was quite a shock when Alexander had sent that first letter, explaining the quills. At first, Eliza kept it to herself, trying to form a reply but never being able to. However, Angelica found out about it when she caught Eliza staring into space.

 _"Are you alright, Eliza?" Angelica said, sitting down next to her._

 _"The contrary, Angelica. Alexander sent me a letter..."_

 _"What did that idiot say? What as he done?"_

 _"Angelica, he hasn't done anything... well, he has. But- I don't know." Eliza grabbed the letter from her hip-pocket, shoving it towards Angelica._

 _She snatched it from her sister's hand, and Eliza watched as Angelica's eyes grew wider and wider._

 _"Eliza..."_

 _"I know."_

 _"He can't be."_

 _"How else would you explain it? Unless it is really a ghost... but they don't haunt anyone anymore. That was hundreds of years ago."_

 _"We'll have to wait and see then. Write a reply, say you'll explain later. If he sends anything else, don't reply. He can wait."_

And then Alexander sent them the letter about the compromise and how the fork flew in the middle of dinner. Angelica looked like she was about to faint when Eliza showed her.

 _"This is bad! This is very bad! Jefferson and Madison witnessed it! Oh no! If Alexander is a wizard- ooh MACUSA will be so- Eliza! Alexander could be punished!"_

That was when the severity of the situation dawned on Eliza.

 _"We need to get home as soon as possible,"_ she had said.

Hastily, Angelica had agreed, already running upstairs to pack.

They had explained the situation to their father, and he looked quite solemn that they couldn't stay longer but he agreed it was an emergency.

Much to their displeasure, the trip home was delayed because the carriage's wheel broke off, and the repairman was sickly. So they were told to wait another six days before they could go home.

As soon as the carriage arrived at the Schuyler household, they all immediately rushed towards it. They said hasty goodbyes to their father, gathered their children, and told the driver to go as quickly as he possibly could.

Little Angelica asked why they were in such a hurry, to which Eliza replied, "Just eager to see your Father again, Angie dearest."

They all believed her and immediately began talking about how much they missed Alexander. Philip was the most excited.

Their carriage rocked up at the place, and Alexander was seen sprinting towards them all. At first Eliza was amused, but her expression then turned quite grim when she thought of Jefferson and Madison. What if they told anyone about it? Would people believe them? The Salem Witch trials ended last century, surely people would not pick up such things again?

"Eliza!" he yelled in glee, and they hugged. But of course, the children weren't going to miss out on that.

"I missed you all, so much..." said Alexander, cuddling all four children at once.

They all entered the house (with great difficulty, the children were impatient). Alexander began to question why she was following everyone in, but Eliza stopped him with a stare she'd seen Angelica do when she wants someone to shut up. A kind of glare, but not really.

Eliza and Angelica both went through everything with Alex- he seemed surprised that they believed him, perhaps he thought that they would think him insane. Of course not.

Eliza was a bit skittish at first with the idea of giving Alex Angelica's wand to try, but she agreed that yes, it was probably for the better. Alex and Angelica were more compatible, similar personality, kind of. Both smart. So Angelica's wand wouldn't reject Alexander. If was smart thinking, all credit to Angelica herself of course.

Then Alexander told Angelica that Jefferson "had one of those" and, well, there was really no other explanation as to why he had one. Jefferson must have been a wizard. Of course, he might just have a stick with pretty patterns but what no-maj would carry around a stick? Well, Angelica said she'd meet with Jefferson and figure things out.

As was expected, Alexander completely freaked out when he cast the spell. Eliza only hoped the children didn't hear any of it- but she highly doubted they didn't. Alex was making quite a scene, as always.

They explained Peggy and genetics to Alexander, and they explained wizarding laws.

A few days later, after Alexander had begun to properly come to terms with what he was, Angelica approached Eliza with her arms crossed.

"Alexander can't work under Washington anymore," she said.

Eliza sighed. "I know, I know. But he won't want to quit. As much as he complains, Alexander does like his job. And- what would he take up if he's forced to leave? He can't be a lawyer again."

"He could be a lawyer for MACUSA."

"I don't want to introduce him to that yet. Angelica, don't you think people will start to get suspicious? Alex can't be seen associating with any old friends or he'll be punished. He can't talk to Mr. Burr. Everyone will notice his absence - and I mean the whole of New York! He can't publish anything to the newspaper, to everyone else it'd be like he died."

"Then let them be like that. Alexander will be punished if he associates himself with anything no-maj, it's far better for the public-eye to lose interest in him than have him jailed."

"I hate this law."

"Everyone does."

The day arrived for Angelica to take Alexander shopping for wizarding things. The maids were going to take care of the children so Eliza could tag along as well.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Eliza asked Angelica before they left.

"Definitely. He's learnt everything now - mostly everything - and he'll want more until he's satisfied, which he'll never be..." she paused for a moment, "He wants his own wand more than anything. You can't possibly take that away from him."

"I know," Eliza sighed, "I'm worried, that's all. We'll have to make sure he doesn't kill anyone..."

"Well, we can't guarantee he won't," Angelica said with a small smirk.

Eliza let out a small laugh. "Alright. Let's go..."

* * *

It was rough being around Alexander so often. Of course, Angelica loved every moment spent with him, but she couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy whenever Eliza kissed him. But she wouldn't dare take Alexander away from Eliza, never. Not even if Eliza - god, she hoped not ever - died, Angelica would not take Alex for her own. Yes, it would be bliss, but she wouldn't dare to that to Eliza even in rest.

It was rough being around Alexander without Eliza around, because Angelica then had to control herself.

 _No, don't blush, Angelica._

 _No, don't grab his arm, Angelica._

It was very rough. But seeing Alexander overjoyed by witnessing the wizarding community buzzing around him made up for it.

Alex gaped in awe when the bricks moved aside to reveal a whole new, wonderous floor beneath his favourite bookstore. Everyone around stared at him awkwardly when he ran to the spellbook section in glee. Angelica just shrugged at them.

For a little while, Angelica followed Alexander at all times, but eventually she found a nice little corner where she could read while Alex explored.

She sat there, reading, for about half-an-hour before she decided it was time to move on to the next store. She stood, placed the book back on the shelf, then began to try and look for Alexander. Eventually she found him in a different little corner. However, when she began to approach him, she noticed a short man in blue clothing standing a few feet away, staring at Alex.

Angelica hid behind a bookshelf, and waited. She wanted to see who this man was, and why he was staring at Alexander.

She watched as the man approached Alex. He held himself well, and as Angelica studied him more... was that a blush forming on his cheeks?

The man tapped Alex's shoulder. Alex looked up.

"How may I help you?" he asked.

"Hello. My name's Jalin - I was looking at you from afar and I couldn't help but notice how cute you are."

Angelica's blood boiled. Who did he think he was?! He couldn't go around telling strangers that they're cute! And Alex doesn't like men! No! She needed to step in soon, very soon, before the situation got out of hand.

"I beg your pardon?" Alex said, closing his book.

"I hardly think that was something to be offended by, sir..."

"While I admire your confidence - Jalin, was it? - I must decline your insinuation to court me!"

Jalin blushed. "I'm sorry, sir, I-"

"I most certainly would never be interested in someone of the likes of you, and I do not fancy men either!" somehow, reading between the lines, Angelica found a lie in that sentence, "Now, Jalin, if you would be so kind as to move along to the next man-"

"I assure you sir I am not a whore that goes around dallying with every man I find!" evidently, this Jalin had dirty mouth as well, "I merely found you mildly attractive and I wished to take you out for a drink, sir! A simple no wouldn't have been much easier than carrying on like a toddler when they don't receive what they so desperately want!"

"Sir! I behave like no toddler! It is you who is behaving childish-" false, by all means.

"You know what? Nevermind. Whatever. You're attractive, but not worth my time. You could have atleast been polite about it. Good day."

And so Jalin walked away, leaving Alexander in a state of anger.

Angelica left her place behind the shelf then grabbed Alex's arm, "Let's go to the next store, shall we?"

On the way out, Angelica caught Jalin's eye- and he must have assumed that she was Alex's wife because he blushed in shame. Angelica glared.

It was starting to rain by the time they got out from the bookstore, so they ran to the nearest store, which was the shoe shop, which happened to have one wand shop underneath.

Upon entering, a young red-head by the name of Anthony enthusiastically bound towards the two of them. Bright ginger, curly hair, brown eyes. He was tall and looked like an adult but walked and talked like a young teen.

"Angelica! You're here!" he yelled gleefully, "Are you in need of a new wand?"

"Oh no, Anthony. I'm here with my brother-in-law, Alexander Hamilton."

"Mr. Hamilton! Surely not? I thought you were a no-maj!"

Alexander sighed. "I thought I was too until recently."

"Anthony, could we get a wand for Alexander?"

"Certainly! Be a minute!"

The red-head ran through the back door then emerged again with an older man, presumably his father.

"I was told we have the Treasury Secretary looking for a wand. What an unexpected customer," the older man's voice was croaky with age, but soft with kindness. Evidently age had caught up with the man, but he still seemed up and kicking. He stood with good posture - back straight, head held high, shoulders hunched backwards. It gave him an air of authority, while also showing off his wisdom and kindness. His hair wasn't fully grey yet, but it was getting there. Currently it was a dirty-blond colour, cut short so it brushed the top of his ears.

"Mr. Dale! It's lovely to see you again. How is the Mrs?" Angelica said, letting go of Alexander and walking towards Mr. Dale.

"Ah, splendid as always. She's been knitting us all scarves because of the weather that's been hitting us recently. Now," Dale turned to Alex, "I believe we have Mr. Hamilton here seeking a wand?"

"Indeed," Alex stepped forward, "How does it work? Do I just choose one or is it some sort of "this one speaks to you!" thing?"

"The latter. Anthony, bring me a few wands..."

"Yes, pa!"

It took a moment, but Anthony returned with a few boxes which held some wands.

Dale took out the first wand. Made from dark oak. It had a small round handle at the end, which had a light blue gem in the middle. It had no pattern, it was a smooth as a desk top.

The wand was handed to Alexander. He was told to give it a wave... which resulted in a broken vase. Luckily it didn't have anything in it. And it was just a cheap one.

The next one was made from jungle wood. It had an ivy pattern swirling around it, which formed into a swirly handle at the end.

This one nearly flew out of Alex's hand the moment he touched it. So, no.

Then there was the hornbeam one. It was quite simple. It had a curved handle at the end, and it was sort of shaped like a snake head, but not really. No pattern.

The moment Alexander held the wand, a warmth spread throughout his fingers and up his arm, then down his spine to his feet.

"This one likes you," said Dale, "Hornbeam wand with Dragon-heartstring core. Stiff. Good for transfiguration. Useless in the hands of anyone but you... could be used for evil, but more likely to be used for good. You've found yourself a great wand, Mr. Hamilton."

Alexander examined it closely, trying to find the best way of holding it. Eventually he settled for lightly gripping it, his pinky finger settling under the handle.

"Thank you," he said, with utmost sincerity.

Dale smiled at him, "It was my pleasure, Mr. Hamilton."

They left the store and trudged back home in the pooring rain, but neither of them minded. Not really.

Philip approached Alexander one day with Angelica (the young one) at his side, "Da, tell Angie you can make things fly! She won't believe me!"

So Alex was in a sort of predicament.


	9. The Marquis

Phillip ended up finding out about everything on his own. Apparently, he had been watching Alex very closely ever since he got back and he came to the conclusion that yes, his father could make things float. And now that Philip had found Alexander's wand that was left inside his bedside table drawer? Well, there was no avoiding it. Eliza gathered all the children and explained everything.

Philip was ecstatic, Angie quite shocked, Alex Jr too shocked to move, and James didn't quite understand fully.

"So we can make things float too?!" Philip exclaimed, "How?!"

Eliza was trying to manage all the kids, Angelica was watching in amusement, and Alexander was kind of just there, trying to figure out what the hell was going on with all four kids yelling at once.

"When you're eleven years old-" Eliza tried to explain everything, but the kids wouldn't stop yelling, "You can go to a special school-"

Angie halted, "I wanna go too! Can I go? Please? I wanna learn!"

"Girls can go too, Angelica. Your aunt and I did."

Angie squealed in delight as Philip complained that he still had to put up with his sister.

Alexander wasn't really paying attention. His mind had once again drifted to Maria Reynolds. He had already paid Reynolds half of what the man wanted, now he just had to give him the other half and he could break it off with Maria. The problem was that he didn't know how to break it off. Confront her personally? Send a letter? He felt if he visited her personally she would find some way to guilt trip him, but then if he sent a letter then it'd feel wrong because that's not how things _ended_.

He'd have to think on it.

But now what was more important was his family.

Throughout the day, Alexander found his mind drifting to that man in the bookstore - Jalin.

Honestly, Alex had to admit he was, sort of, kind of, attractive. But Alex was married and already having an affair and _not attracted_ to Jalin. The man had come off too strongly too quickly. Alex hadn't even done that with Laurens. A bit of flirting here, a subtle ("subtle") romantic letter, and over time things escalated.

Apparently Angelica had gone over to confront Jefferson, and yes, he was a wizard, and yes, he was going to resign soon. Resign from his position under Washington.

Alex to say simply, was overjoyed.

"Alexander," Alex's head snapped up to the sound of Eliza's voice, "Did you know the Lafayette is a wizard?"

And his mind exploded.

"What?"

"Yes, his family goes back centuries in magic," said Angelica, "We were thinking we might be able to have him over, so he could help you with magic."

"Really? Well, I haven't seen Laf in a while... that would be nice."

"Okay, we'll write to him."

It was certainly an interesting thing to think about, Lafayette being a wizard. Alex had to wonder if Laf ever used his magic in the war. Were there any other wizards in the war?

Perhaps he could look it up. Later. Now he had to focus on writing.

Alexander had taken up to writing in the dining room instead, so he was always around his family. The kids were told not to bother him too much.

It was honestly a nice change.

* * *

The days passed and the Hamiltons received a reply from Lafayette. He said he would be leaving immediately, and that he should be expected in five days tops. That left four days of cleaning Alex's office so Laf could teach in private.

Alexander was rather excited for Lafayette to be visiting, but not nearly as excited as Philip.

"Lafayette? You mean the soldier Daddy fought with? That we've heard stories about?"

He was ecstatic to be having a military hero visiting.

Now, Alex assumed Laf meant he would be leaving soon not literally straight away. So five days later, Alexander was not expecting the Marquis waiting on his doorstep.

"Bonjour, mon Ami! It has been a long while!" the Frenchman exclaimed.

"Lafayette!" yelled Alex in joy, "It's so great to see you again! Ça Va mon Ami?" it felt great to speak French again.

"Je vais bien! Ah, and I do not have to ask how you are, I already know! You are a wizard now, non?"

"Yes. It's an interesting development..."

"I can only imagine how you must feel! Most wizards and witches know they are from birth!"

Eliza's voice came from behind Alex, "Oh, Marquis de Lafayette! We were not expecting you so early!"

"My Adrienne wished for me to leave for you immediately, Madame Hamilton! She knows I have been wanting to visit for the longest time, but have not been able to! Rappaport's Law, you see?"

"Of course. Yes, it's a horrible law. I understand MACUSA's fear but it's really quite ridiculous! Mr. Jefferson is resigning soon and... well, would you like to come in?"

There was that word again. Macoosah. Alex decided to ask about it later.

"That would be nice! Merci!"

Alex, Laf and Eliza talked for a little while about whatever, until Philip bounded through the door and ran up to the Frenchman.

"Are you Lafayette? The man daddy fought with? In the war?"

Then the two of them started talking, occasionally in French. Lafayette was quite pleased to know Philip was almost fluent in it.

Eventually, everyone ran out of things to talk about, so they all decided Lafayette would begin teaching Alex. They migrated upstairs to Alex's office, which was now clearer than it had bever been before.

"Will you show me your wand?" Laf asked, as soon as the door was closed behind them.

Alex reached into his pocket and pulled it out. He handed it to Lafayette.

Laf examined it for a few moments, then handed it back. "You have a good wand," he said, "What spells can you do?"

"I can make a few pages of a book turn, that's about it. But that was with Angelica's wand."

"Now that you have your own, you will be able to perform magic easier. It will obey you."

Lafayette reached behind Alex and picked up a stray book. "Lift it," he said.

Alex felt uncertain.

"Just the _wingardium leviosa_ spell. Try it." Laf smiled encouragingly.

Alex pointed his wand at the book that Laf was holding, and said a quiet _wingardium leviosa._ To his absolute delight, the book floated for a few seconds then landed back in Lafayette's hand.

"Very good!" Laf exclaimed, "Very good! At the school I went to, Beauxbatons, the first thing we were told to lift were _feathers!_ It is very good you are able to lift a book so fastly..."

"Quickly."

"Quickly."

The lesson went on for a bit longer. Lafayette taught Alex about different spells, history of wizards and witches around the world.

About Scourers.

"What are Scourers?" Alex asked.

Laf's expression fell. "They... are- how you say... bounty hunters. They are the reason Rappaports Law is in place now. Not good people. It is hard to explain... I am sure Mrs. Hamilton and Mrs. Church would know more than I do. I simply know from classes."

"Okay..." and that was the end of that conversation.

The class went on for a little bit longer, Alex learnt some new spells that he could try under supervised conditions, and it was time for Laf to leave.

"I must be leaving now, I hope you are more knowledgeable about the wizarding world now, mon Ami!"

"Thank you so much for coming over, Laf! It was very enlightening, what you've taught me."

The Frenchman left, agreeing that they'd have their next lesson the following week.

* * *

As the days passed, Alex found himself thinking more and more of Maria. He hadn't visited her since Eliza got home, and he didn't really _want_ to- oh, but he did. And he hated himself for it. He _shouldn't_ be wanting her, he should just stop thinking about her altogether. But he _can't._

Alex gave in. He told Eliza and Angelica he was going to the library. He was intending to go to the library. But he walked passed Maria's house and he _couldn't resist._

He didn't even hesitate when knocking on the door. Why didn't he hesitate?

At the sight of Maria's surprised expression, Alex melted.

"Mr. Hamilton, sir! You're here..." she said, her voice making it sound like she had just woken up. By how she was dressed, Alex thought maybe she had.

"I am. I-" what could he say? 'I'm sorry for not visiting, my wife got home?' No. "I've been busy with work."

"That's understandable, Mr. Hamilton. You are a very _busy_ man. Would you like to relax?"

Alex sighed. Out of what? He didn't know. "That would be nice."

* * *

Days and nights flew by, Alex had more lessons with Lafayette, Alex visited Maria more, Alex felt guilty, Alex found out that Eliza was bearing another child-

ah, yes. Another child... Alex was delighted, don't get him wrong, but it meant even more sleepless nights. Of course, he was used to it by now, being who he was, but he was quite tired even looking after one kid, now they were going to have _five_...

He was already thinking about names. For a boy, he thought, maybe John. After Laurens... John Laurens Hamilton. But... he didn't think Eliza would be okay with it. So, John Church Hamilton was more fitting. After Angelica's husband. It'd still be after Laurens in his mind, but no one needed to know.

The time came for Angelica to go back to her husband in London. No one really wanted her to leave just yet, but it was understandable she needed to go back.

Before she left, however, she managed to corner Alex in his office.

"Where have you been sneaking off to in the middle of the night?"

And that was when every single muscle in Alex's body tensed and he felt a terrible chill run down his spine.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Angelica-"

"I'm not stupid. Where have you been going?"

His mind raced as he desperately ran through a list of excuses, lies, anything.

"I-"

What would Angelica believe?

"I've been-"

What would she not question?

"Just-"

He did write a lot-

"Poetry reading."

Angelica raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Poetry reading."

Of all things, why did his damn mind had to think of that?!

"Poetry reading. There's- there's a poetry reading club uptown. It runs every... so often."

And, thank the gods, Angelica seemed to believe him. Perhaps not fully, but she didn't bring it up again and that was enough.

* * *

Lafayette was turning out to be a brilliant tutor. He had taken up teaching Alex in French because it would be easier for him, and it was certainly helping the tutoring along nicely.

Eliza was beginning to become exhausted from having to deal with the kids on her own again. Alex did offer to help in his spare time but she shrugged him off and told him to practise spells.

Once, Alex stumbled upon Eliza reading while a scarf knitted itself and a mug of coffee stirring itself.

"Incredible." Alex said, awestruck about what she could do.

Eliza smiled tiredly. "Thank you. It took me years to get this particular spell right."

More time passed, Alex managed to wingardium leviosa his book for more than ten seconds. He was learning slowly, but Lafayette ensured him he was coming along marvellously.

"Most children could only lift a fruit at this stage!"

"Yes, but they're _children_." Alex countered.

One day, Eliza approached him solemnly out of the blue. "Alexander, you have to resign from your position as Secretary Treasury."

Instantly all sorts of emotions filled Alex's brain and he stood frozen for a moment.

"I- what?" he finally managed to croak out.

"Rappaport's law. You can't associate yourself with Washington. Or... or any of your no-maj friends."

Trurhfully, Alex already knew this. But he didn't give it much thought, he didn't think about the possibility of him being forced to resign. Because he was a wizard.

"I'm sorry, Alexander. You'll have to get a job for wizards."

He felt faint. "But... what will... I don't want to do anything else. And- I can't associate myself with no-majes, right? So I can't publish anything anymore. Not to my readers. Not to anyone in St. Croix. Eliza, I'll disappear, my legacy will disappear-"

"Your legacy will thrive in the wizarding world!"

"But I want the _world_ to know my name! Not just a fraction of people in America!"

"Alexander you will be severely punished if you keep working under the president! You can get a job at MACUSA-"

"What the bloody hell _is_ that?! You've mentioned it multiple times but never elaborated."

Eliza sighed. An annoyed sigh. A given up sigh. "MACUSA. It's an acronym. Stands for MAgical Congress of the United States of America. I didn't want to tell you about it because I was afraid you'd want to get involved without knowing much about our world. But you would've found out anyway... I suppose. You can be a lawyer at MACUSA."

"Oh." _Oh_. Of course. It would be perfect. But...

"I can't talk to Burr? Or anyone no-maj?"

Eliza shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry, Alexander."

Alex's mind travelled to the Farnes siblings. He promised he'd visit them on Christmas. He can't now. It's against the law now. They'd feel betrayed. Alex would feel awful.

And Maria.

Maria...

Maria.

She's no-maj.

Immediate action needed to take place.


	10. Oh

"Hello, Thomas."

Jefferson snapped up his head to the sound of James Madison's voice, "Hey Jemmy. You okay?"

"Fine, just... there's this weird.. gap in my memory."

"Maybe it's your cold, messing with you?"

Thomas grew slightly anxious as James rubbed his head, "I don't think colds make you forget things, Thomas."

"Maybe you're just tired. Try sleeping."

James looked hesitant for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. Goodnight, Thomas."

"Goodnight Jemmy."

Jefferson sighed, not really feeling up to reading his book any longer. There hadn't been much to do lately, now that MACUSA is forcing him home until further notice.

However he wasn't left bored for much longer, as there was a loud knocking.

He sighed again, then got up from his armchair. Thomas slowly walked to the door, not really wanting to talk to anyone.

"Good evening- oh! Mrs. Church!" Thomas exclaimed in surprise, "What brings you here, Angelica?"

Angelica's eyes narrowed, and Thomas knew he'd done something wrong. But what?

"What happened in that room, Thomas?" she asked slowly.

"I'm... sure I don't know what you mean." Thomas said cautiously.

Angelica rolled her eyes.

"That meeting, that compromise. We both know you didn't just decide on a whim to trade away the capital."

"I-"

"Alexander told me everything. From the floating fork to your wand."

If Thomas remembered correctly... the Schuylers were a long line of wizards and witches. So he needn't worry... right?

"It was accidental magic- Hamilton remembers that?"

"You only placed the memory charm on James, not on Alexander. And it wasn't you who did it- Alexander did."

.

.

.

"Pardon, what did you say?"

"Alexander is a wizard, Jefferson."

"I don't understand."

"Yes you do."

Thomas sighed. "Yes. I suppose I do. Won't he have to resign-?"

"He will in due time. He's only just found out, still adjusting."

"How is that possible?"

"We don't know. He should've received a letter from Hogwarts in the Caribbean when he turned eleven, but never did."

"Owl might've gotten lost?"

"Or his mother never let him see..."

"Is he no-maj born?" Thomas paled.

"We don't know- would you have a problem with that, Jefferson?"

"No, just- well. Yes, I suppose I do. I've never... liked no-maj borns."

For a moment Angelica looked like she was going to go all out, but never did. She kept her mouth shut.

Instead, she changed the topic.

"Are you going to get a job at MACUSA?"

"I might. Is Hamilton?"

"Probably."

Thomas sighed. "Wonderful."

"Well," said Angelica suddenly, "I must be off. I'll tell Hamilton that he was right."

"Right about what?"

"You being a wizard, of course."

"Oh."

"Oh, and don't let MACUSA find out you've been wiping Madison's memory, they won't like it."


	11. How to Break a Heart

Alex left again in the middle of the night, as quickly but as quietly as possible. He needed to break it off with Maria, pay Reynolds, then hide away in his office for a little while.

The guilt was proving itself unbearable once again. He almost found himself crying - again. But Alexander didn't let himself cry. He refused to. Even as the cold bitter winds struck his guilty face he did not let any tears loose. Even as he almost broke the door by knocking on it so hard he did not let himself succumb to crying.

James bloody Reynolds opened the door, and Alex saw the man visibly flinch at the sight of Alex's beaten down features.

"I brought you the rest of the money," Alex spat, shoving a small envelope into Reynolds' hand. "Now I'm going to go see your wife and tell her we are over. You will not intervene."

Alexander spoke with such anger that Reynolds looked almost scared. But Alex was not really angry. He did not want to hurt anyone. He just felt like crying, but he didn't. He kept up the act, the facade.

Reynolds nodded, letting Alex stomp through the cracked front door. He let his feet carry him up the stairs, each step heavier and angrier than the last.

He found Maria waiting at the edge of her bed. Half dressed.

"Mr. Hamilton, you're back," she said, almost gleefully. She still loves me.

"Not for what you want. I'm here to tell you we are over."

At the spoken words Maria's face fell and she gradually grew pale.

"But sir-!"

"No! I will not let myself cheat on my wife any longer. I have had enough of the overwhelming guilt building up in my brain, I am ending us right here right now."

"Sir! No, please, you don't understand!"

"I understand plenty!"

God, do I really?

"No! Please, James- he- I never lied about what he did to me! Please, he's not leaving me alone! He won't- he won't- I'm scared, Mr. Hamilton! My daughter, Susan-"

"If you want out, you divorce him! It is quite simple!"

It truly isn't, not really. My mother...

"No, it is not! I will be left with nothing!"

Nothing. Nothing.

"You think I don't know what that's like?!"

And by god do I know. Nineteen years I was left on that sorry excuse for an island, that horrible place. How must Maria feel now, knowing what she loves is being ripped away from her?

They both fell silent, and stared at each other for a moment.

Alex took a deep, shaky breath. "We are over. And that is final. Goodbye, Mrs. Reynolds."

And he left.

And he felt great.

A great burden had been lifted off his shoulders and it was truly incredible. No more Maria. Sure, he'd still think about her, but he'd never visit her again. Never again.

But Maria, she looked so heartbroken. So torn. So beaten. Like she didn't know how to move on.

She had a daughter, Susan. She couldn't really leave Reynolds, could she? No.

She'd be left with nothing.

* * *

"Are you alright, Alexander? You seem awfully quiet."

Everyone was seated at the dinner table, eating what Eliza had cooked for breakfast.

Alex swallowed the bacon he was chewing, "Yeah, I'm fine. Was just... staring off into space, I suppose."

Though she seemed a bit suspecting, Eliza didn't press on.

Alex wasn't really fine. He felt awful about what he said to Maria- god, he felt awful. Why was he so cruel? What made him say those things?

What had come over him?

He could've just talked it out with her, like a civilised human being- but he wasn't civilised, was he? He never had been. Always mad at something, or someone, always in an argument. Always talking too much. Where had it got him? Yeah, maybe his ego helped him rise up in society, but now? God, he was nothing. Soon he'd be resigning from under Washington and he'd able to start all over again in the wizarding community. He'd have nothing again. And when future historians wanted to see what Alexander Hamilton had done? They'd see nothing. He would disappear from society in 1791. They'd say he resigned and returned to civilian life with his wife. Wanted to go home. But that's not the legacy Alex wanted. He wanted to be remembered for something. Something big. Yeah, he had the debt plan, but what else? What else did he have? Nothing. That's what he had. Maybe he was surrounded by family, and maybe he had friends, but they wouldn't want to bother themselves with telling Alex's story. Why would they? Why?

* * *

A broken heart isn't something that can be mended easily. It doesn't heal within a day and then you're fine. It lingers. The after effects. During the heartbreak? Well, it's not all that bad. But afterwards? You just feel like falling apart, like ceasing to exist, you feel like screaming and kicking and DYING but you don't. You just kind of think, for a moment. You let it sink in. You cry. And then you try to get in with your miserable life.

Maria's life was miserable, yes. Married to someone she thought she loved at fifteen, who then beat her and cheated her. Forced her to bear a child she didn't think she could take care of.

Susan was the light of her day, but Maria struggled to pay for her. James wasn't helping. He never helped.

She wasn't sure how, but Maria found herself powerwalking through NYC until she reached Alexander's house.

At first, she hesitated knocking. But she gathered her courage and knocked confidently.

However, Alexander did not answer the door.

"Hello, dearie, what can I do for you?" Mrs Hamilton said softly, smiling genuinely at Maria.

"M-Mrs Hamilton?" Maria stuttered.

"Yes, that's me. What would you like, dear?"

"I-I'd like to talk to your... husband. It's- it's to do with-"

what could she say? What could she say that would allow her to talk to Alexander?

Before she could say it, however, Alexander himself appeared behind Mrs. Hamilton.

"Ma-Mrs. Reynolds! To what do I... owe the pleasure?" it sounded genuine, but Maria knew it was not.

"I would like to talk, Mr. Hamilton-! Uh- my.. husband sent me to.. discuss things with you, as he is busy with.. certain things. I'm just supposed to ask questions." she hoped it sounded genuine enough.

Alexander looked like he was about to object, but Mrs. Hamilton cut in, "Would you like to come in for tea, dear? Then you two can discuss what you need." she smiled again. She sure loved to smile.

"That would be lovely, Mrs. Hamilton..."

She shook her head. "Eliza, please."

Mrs. Hamilton led Maria inside, and to the living room. A boy was already sat there, writing in his little notebook.

"This is our eldest son, Philip." Mrs. Hamilton said, "Philip, say hello to Mrs. Reynolds."

The boy, Philip, looked up momentarily, "Hello Mrs. Reynolds," then got back to whatever he was doing.

"Please, call me Maria."

God, what was she doing? Letting herself have tea with the wife of the man who she was having an affair with... well, USED to be having an affair with.

"Might I ask what you wished to discuss with Alexander?" Mrs. Hamilton asked curiously.

"Oh, I, uh- just, you know, political things." Very specific.

Mrs. Hamilton sighed. "Alexander is always getting involved, tell me, what has he done?" she asked, almost amused.

"W-Well- nothing, really... my husband didn't... explain the details. I'm... just supposed to ask a few questions."

Suddenly, Mrs. Hamilton stood and made way to the kitchen. When she returned, she was carrying two cups of tea and a plate of biscuits.

"Thank you, Mrs- Eliza. Thank you, truly."

It had been a while since Maria had drunk good tea.

"It's no problem, really."

The two of them talked for a while, and eventually it had almost been an hour.

However, Alexander interrupted.

"Ma-Mrs. Reynolds?" he called from the doorway,"We may as well get started."

Honestly, Maria didn't want to halt her talking with Mrs. Hamilton, but then she remembered why she'd come here in the first place.

"I-Yes, I'll be right there, sir."

Begrudgingly, Maria left the room, then followed Alexander upstairs to his office.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" he whisper-yelled as soon as the door was closed.

"I just- I want to tell you how much you hurt me before, and-"

"You couldn't have written a letter? You had no right to let yourself into my home-"

"Why didn't you turn me away, then?!"

"I- Eliza wanted you to stay! So- so I let you, besides she would have killed me if I just shooed you away! She clearly enjoys your company, so-"

.

.

"She enjoys my company?"

"Why else would she invite you in so eagerly? If I didn't know better, I'd say she had a crush on you. Which she doesn't."

"Well, obviously-"

"But you like her, don't you?" Alex's voice reduced down to a mutter, almost.

Maria wasn't sure what to say. Did she like Mrs. Hamilton? Maybe. Maybe she did. But it was just a "hey, you're really cute" sort of thing. Because Mrs. Hamilton was as such; really cute.

The light brown hair tied up into a loose ponytail, slightly flushed cheeks from all the smiling and rushing about after kids, presumably. Brown-eyed beauty, truly.

Okay, maybe she did like Mrs. Hamilton. But it would never happen, and never should.

"Stay away from her, Mrs. Reynolds. Stay way from my family, and stay away from me."

"I heard shouting, is everything alright?"

The sudden entrance of Mrs. Hamilton made them both jump, and blush.

"Everything's fine, Eliza. It was a- misunderstanding."Alexander said cautiously."No matter, everything is okay now."

"Alright, I trust you. Maria, would you like some more tea?"


	12. Apparation

**I don't know batsh*t about lawyers. Seriously, I had no idea how to write the signing up scene. Please forgive** me ; **0;**

 **When you read the dates, please remember it's the Australian way of writing them. Just clearing that up for Americans.**

* * *

4/3/1791

After a lot of talking, anger, sadness, and childish behaviour, Alexander finally agreed to resign and join MACUSA instead. He was quite upset about it, but it was illegal now.

So, Alexander stared up at Washington's front door with an expression of anger and sadness combined. He could hear a girl singing and playing the piano, it sounded rather lovely. It was a shame Alex was about to ruin the mood.

Without knocking, Alex opened the door and entered. He slowly crept up the stairs, solemnly looking down at his feet.

However, before entering the room that Washington was in, he ran a hand through his hair and smiled.

The young lady playing music glanced up briefly when Alex entered, then looked back down. Washington didn't acknowledge Alex's entrance, and still sat facing away from the door, nodding his head to the music.

The lady finished her song, and both Alex and Washington clapped. As soon as she had left, Washington turned to face Alex with bright eyes. It had been a while since Alex had seen those eyes looking so gleeful instead of exhausted.

"Alexander, son, what is it you need?" he asked happily.

Alex hesitated before answering, contemplating if he should just go back. But he couldn't now.

He sighed. "Mr. President, I have been thinking long and hard these past days, about this... job. I do love acting as Secretary Treasury as much as it can anger me, and tire you. And it is even harder for me to say this now that you are looking so gleeful, I do not wish to ruin your rare relaxed moment, but I'm here because-... well, to be straight-forward, I'm resigning from my position as Secretary of the Treasury."

And almost immediately, Washington's face fell. The man opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, then opened it again. "Alexander..." he stood up slowly, "You are very important to me..."

"Both my family and family by law agree that it would be better for me to resign. The job is..." inhale, "exhausting, to say the least. I do love it, as I have said, but... it deprives me of my ability to interact with my family as much as I should. I have done what I needed to, and now I am resigning. It has been a wonderful two years," exhale "even though Jefferson has been present throughout them."

Washington looked quite solemn now, and the bright-eyes had disappeared. He was frowning, and the old age wrinkles were very evident.

"I'm... I'm sorry, sir. I might just, become a lawyer again. Goodbye, Mr. President."

If Alex had a hat, he would have tipped it, however he did not so he just awkwardly backed out of the room, then ran downstairs, leaving Washington to ponder.

* * *

5/4/1791

The next day, Alexander decided to get his lawyer license from MACUSA.

Now, when Eliza said she'd accompany him, he assumed she'd walk him there in a matter of ten minutes. However, there was a curious method of transportation that... Lafayette had not taught Alex.

"Grab my arm," Eliza said, and Alex obliged curiously. "Now, Alexander, no matter what happens, do not let go. It will hurt you severely, and you may end up anywhere."

Alex looked at her in shock, "Eliza, what are you about to do?"

"It's called apparation, and you're going side-along. Alexander, do not let go, do you understand?"

Hesitantly, Alex nodded. "I won't let go. Uh, what kind of hurt is it?"

"Splinch. Are you ready?"

Alex was about to ask what the hell a splinch is, and why the hell it sounded so menacing, but apparently, Eliza took the open mouth as a "yes, I'm ready, let's go" and suddenly, without warning, Alexander's vision was replaced with darkness and oh my god.

Very strong, sudden pressure on all sides of his body, his chest, his eyes, his ears, like he was being forcefully pushed through a very tight tube. A very very tight tube. To say "it was uncomfortable" is just a huge understatement, but, due to lack of better words, it was uncomfortable.

And then... it was over as quick as it started, and Alex stumbled forward, gasping for air.

"What-" inhale, "the-" exhale, "actual-" inhale-

"I should have warned you... oh well, at least it's not flu-powder. You'd be extremely dizzy. You never truly get used to flu-powder... but at least apparation is something you can get used to. Come on, MACUSA is this way."

Alexander didn't really want to know what flu-powder was, so against his better judgment he just remained silent as he followed Eliza to two large doors, an arched glass pane over the top. It looked very... expensive.

Eliza grabbed Alex by the hand and dragged him in, then Alexander's mind screamed oh my god for the second time in a matter of minutes.

The sun beamed - hang on, where did the windows come from? - through the windows, that gave the giant room a sort of yellow, golden look. The walls themselves seemed to be lined with gold - of course, it was probably just a magic spell. Stairs lead down to into the centre of the lobby, where a statue was sat; it was a group of people holding hands, all looking to be mourning.

"What is that statue supposed to represent?" Alex asked.

"The Salem Witch Trials, it's a tribute for those who were lost." Eliza said solemnly.

Alexander hadn't even thought about that... Lafayette wasn't teaching him much history yet, mostly just spells. And now, to think that actual wizards and witches were murdered during the trials? It was sort of... mind-blowing, if that's even the right word.

Eliza continued to drag Alex away from the room, and showed him to a set of stairs.

"Are you prepared to do a lot of walking, Alexander?" she asked tiredly.

"What floor are we going down to?"

"The fifty-fifth. Well?"

Fifty-five flights of stairs.

Alex sighed. Perhaps being in the war did have benefits after all. He was more than accustomed to a lot of walking.

"Let's go."

It took... way too long. May not as long as it could've, but it was long enough to make Alex grow agitated.

"What floor-" huff, "are we on?"

"Thirty-three..."

At the end of it, they were both exhausted.

"You couldn't have, oh, I don't know-" huff- "apparated us here?"

"No apparation within MACUSA."

"Of course."

Alex was then lead by his wife to a large room that was filled with just... desks. Paperwork lay everywhere, and everyone was working their asses off.

A few people halted their work to glance up at them, and a few furrowed their eyebrows at the Secretary Treasury.

"What's he doing here?"

"I thought Hamilton was no-maj..."

At the end, a longer desk was sat with a seemingly very tired looking man seated on the other side.

Alex opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Eliza.

"Mr. Garrison, sir? My husband would like to become a lawyer under you."

Not neccesarily the most... elegant wording.

"Does he?" the man, Garrison, said. He didn't even look up from his desk, "Is this husband here? I'll need documents, proving he had the education..."

"He is," Alex butted in, "Eliza, do you have the documents?"

Garrison looked up, and raised an eyebrow. "Alexander Hamilton. Who knew you were a wizard." then he furrowed his brows, "You are a wizard, right?"

"I am," Alex said while Eliza handed him the papers, "And here are the documents. I was actually a lawyer before, so-"

"Yes, I know. In that case..." Garrison reached under his desk, then pulled out a badge of sorts. "You're a lawyer now." he said, uncannily neutral.

.

.

.

"That's it? No, like, resigistration? Papers to sign?"

"Already done. My quill likes writing."

Alex glanced to the left, and, sure enough, a magical quill was already signing everything for him.

"Incredible." he muttered.

* * *

6/4/1791

Alexander would start work the following week, so Lafayette insisted he teach Alex how to apparate. Eliza, rightfully so, was worried at first because apparation was very hard to do, but Alex on the other hand wanted to learn.

"I don't want to be assisted, I need to learn how to get to my work on my own."

So, Lafayette took Alexander to the apartment he was staying at, which was a bit more spacious.

"We will start with short distances, and then slowly go longer. MACUSA is in DC, so you will need to travel long distances regularly. Are you ready to start, mon Ami?"

"Ready."

"Okay. Now..."

Laf went on to teach Alex about concerntration, and how "very very important!" it is. He explained splinching with a grimace - which Alex learned to be accidentally leaving body parts behind - and taught him how to treat it.

"It is not healed by a magic spell, but a potion..."

Alex listened intently, sucking in every word. He needed to learn how to do this, dammit, and even if he had to endure that terrible feeling it would be worth it.

"You get used to it eventually, mon Ami, so do not worry..."

And, finally, Laf decided it was time to do some actual apparation.

He lead Alex to the centre of the room, and said they would apparate to the door, then back, then to the kitchen, then back, etc etc until Alexander felt comfortable to go further distances.

"Now, all you have to do is..."

Alex watched Lafayette do a sort of turn on the spot.

"Destination, Determination, and Deliberation... it is very important you remember this set of words."

"Destination, Determination, and Deliberation. Got it."

"So, as you turn, you think very very hard about your destination and you must be very determined to arrive there, and be very deliberative with your actions and thoughts..."

then Lafayette took a step back, set one foot in front of him, began to walk forward again but turned at the same time and CRACK. He was standing at the doorway. It all happened very fast, but it looked like Laf was being mixed into soup or something. Invisible soup.

it looked horribly uncomfortable.

"Do you want to try now, mon Ami?"

Alex nodded.

"Remember..."

"Destination, Determination, Deliberation."

"Good. On the count of three... un."

Alex took a step back.

"Deux."

He placed a foot in front of him.

"Trois!"

Time seemed to slow down as Alex pushed forward and twisted around - through his glasses that he had put on earlier he could just make out Lafayette's worried expression - and then there was darkness again, and that terrible awful uncomfortable scary pressuring feeling again and he'd done it.

Alex had landed himself at the front door. He beamed at Laf, but Lafayette did not smile back...

that was when Alexander looked down and saw his left sock was torn... and a spiral of skin was missing.

And then came the pain.

And then there was screaming.

And then there was nothing.


	13. Potion de Bonne Chance

Alexander didn't remember much of what happened, or why he was passed out on some strange couch, but when he came to he saw Eliza and Lafayette quietly making conversation.

He tried to sit up, but found the sudden head movement made him feel nauseous and dizzy.

"Splinched... fainted... concussion."

Oh.

Yes, he remembered now. Alex tried to apparate but... splinched himself. Where was it again, his leg? His shin? Yes...

"El-...Eliza?"

His wife's head snapped to his direction, and she smiled gleefully.

"Alexander, you're awake!"

"Hi..."

"I heard you splinched yourself? Oh dear, that must have been a shock. Lafayette," she turned to the Frenchman, "how bad did he hit his head on the way down?"

"He smacked it against the door handle and then again on the ground, so I'd say pretty hard..."

"Oh dear... did you give him a potion?"

"Yes, he should be fine Mrs. Hamilton, but the... how you say... after effects of the potion may have a heavy... toll on him."

Alexander watched as the two of them talked, not really listening but not... not listening, if that makes sense.

Strangely, Alexander found himself unusually tired, and found himself slowly closing his eyelids. By the time he'd sunk back into the couch properly, he was asleep once more.

* * *

When Alexander came to again, it was around 6'o'clock (according to the pocketwatch left on the table beside him).

Alex, now feeling definitely better than nefure but still drowsy, arched his back slightly so he could peer over the side of the couch without turning onto his stomach. He felt, if he moved around, his head might fall off.

From the rather uncomfortable position on the couch, Alexander saw Eliza reading a book in an armchair while Lafayette appeared to be cooking. Or mixing. Something.

He watched the two for a little while, sometimes they made brief conversation but never looked in Alex's direction.

Eventually, Alexander grew bored and tired of watching them do basically nothing, and Alex called Eliza's name.

"Oh, Alexander! You're awake again I see. How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been hit in the head by an angry pony," Alex said grouchily.

"Yes, well, that would be the result of your concussion."

Lafaystte turned away from whatever he was doing, holding a small bottle of golden liquid. It smelled a bit like... parchment. And perfume.

"Mon Ami, you are feeling better, non?"

"Oui. Un peu."

"C'est bon!"

"English, please?" Eliza closed her book and placed it in her lap. Then, she looked up at Lafayette and stared at the vial in his hand.

"Marquis, tell me that's-?"

"Potion de bonne chance? Felix Felicis? Oui, mon Amie, this is Liquid Luck."

Eliza stated in bewilderment, and Alexander in confusion.

"A luck potion?" he asked, now slowly turning onto his stomach- very slowly.

"Lafayette, how on Earth did you make it? That potion can take years to perfect- even myself, who, not meaning to boast, is quite good with potions; I've never been able to succeed in making Felix Felicis!"

"Oui, indeed it does take years mon Amie, and I have been practising for decades. Ever since I was but the age of dix I wished to create this potion, and I have tried and tried. Now finally I have made it! I intend to give it to ma Chéri, Adrienne, as a gift."

"Oh, that's wonderful Lafayette. I'm sure your wife will adore your gift to her."

"I sure would hope so, mon Amie!"

Alexander decided to butt-in. "Sorry, what's this luck potion I'm hearing? Does it actually work?"

"It does more than "work", Alexander. Felix Felicis, otherwise called Liquid Luck, is one of the most powerful potions in the world. Gives you an absolutely perfect, lucky day."

"Thomas tried it once! In France! He won it in a Lottery, which is lucky on its own. I do believe he's stored the rest in a cupboard, for special occasions."

"So it just makes you really, really lucky? What if someone cheated with it, like in sport?" Alex asked curiously.

"Oh, that's illegal. Anyone found out gets a major warning. Three strikes and you're out," Eliza said, now standing up to examine the potion.

She inhaled, "Smells lovely."

Alex had to agree.

"What does it smell like to you, Mrs. Hamilton? To me, it is my Adrienne's perfume..."

What?

"Oh, it smells like herbs and flowers to me. Alexander, what about you?"

He stared at them in bewilderment, "It smells different to every person?"

The two of them nodded their heads.

"To me... it smells like parchment."

He daren't mention the perfume, because 1. Eliza never wore perfume and 2. it smelled like Maria's.

Eliza shook her head fondly, "Of course. Only you, Alexander."


	14. Haunting

**Short chapter, but I'm incredible proud of this one.**

* * *

The winds were howling with destruction, tearing the branches off trees. The rain fell heavily on the roofs of houses, too heavily too heavily and the wind bashed against the walls against the windows against the door, it was raging leaving only devestation in it's wake and there were screams outside that could strike astonishment into angels and then the rain only got heavier and heavier and heavier Alex felt like he couldn't breathe; he was trapped; he was drowning; he was falling; which way was up? Which way was down? Where was he, where was he?

"We're okay, my child-"

Alex gripped his mother tight, crying, screaming, begging for her to return to him.

"You lied!" he screamed, "You lied to me! You said you were going to be okay! You lied!"

Alexander screamed at his cousin, but what use was screaming if his only family was dead and gone and he was alone he was alone his cousin lied and said he'd be okay but he lied when he said he was getting better and now he's gone and Alex was on the ship, he was on the ship and the fucking thing caught fire and he was going to die, everyone was going to die, everyone was going to die the gunshots were too loud, too loud, they ran through the air like- like-

"...you a lot, John."

"What?"

"I like you a lot John. Please don't die, John. Be careful. I can't live without you!"

Alex threw the chair at the wall, screaming- "I can't live without you! I can't live without you!"

Red, so much red- fabric? Purple fabric, ew. Who wears that much purple? And then red, and then green, pink? Yellow, green, different shade. Screaming, pain, anger? Sadness, pleasure, red fabric, green fabric. Guilt? Blue, purple, grey, wind returns, wind has returned and it's haunting him it won't leave him alone and god help me help me I can't breathe I can't operate I need to write? I need to talk? I can't move, I'm- in an attic? In a bed? Where am I? I can't see, I can't hear- where am I? Everything was dark and he couldn't see, he couldn't feel he couldn't hear he couldn't sense anything he didn't exist he was fading and he woke up in bed and screamed bloody murder.


	15. Panic

**CAUTION: PANIC ATTACK**

 **CAUTION: REPEATED HARSH LANGUAGE**

* * *

Through the tears in his eyes and the darkness of the room, Alexander barely made out the outline of his wife yelling at him to calm down. Despite her loud town, her voice was still sweet and calming.

"Alexander- Alexander! Are you alright?!"

Was he alright? Am I alright? The last thing he could remember was... oh god, the screaming, who screamed? What happened?

"Alexander?"

Finally, Alex came to his senses and swiftly wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "Eliza-" he choked, "Eliza I-"

"Shh, hush, Alexander- you're okay," Eliza whispered, pulling in Alexander close, and she began to rub his back.

"Eliza-"

"You're okay."

Alex didn't know how long they were sat there- it felt like hours but it was probably more like minutes.

It was rather cold in the room. Too cold for his liking- Eliza was very cold, too; her skin felt like ice, and she was shivering. Alex was shivering.

However... it was summer.

Why was it so cold... in the middle of summer?

Alex leaned away from Eliza's embrace, and glanced around at his surroundings. Perhaps he had done accidental magic again- but was it even possible for a witch or wizard to change the room temperature? He voiced this to his wife.

"It's not impossible, but it requires skill. I doubt you'd be able to do that at all, nonetheless accidentally. And I'm past the accidental magic stage-"

The room only got colder, and Alex shivered harder than before.

"W-Why is it so cold?"

"I don't know..."

It was then that Eliza got up from her spot on the bed and tip-toed over to their bookshelf, which was covered with all sorts of wizarding books now that Alex knew.

She picked out one of them, and skimmed through the pages until she found what she was looking for.

"Wizards and Witches have been known to make it snow or rain in their kitchen or office, however this is usually caused by charmed objects- no no, that's not what we need. It's not snowing."

She continued to read, and Alex watched her read. It was a few minutes before anyone spoke again.

"It doesn't say anything about room temperature. Only wea-"

"Mama!"

Both Hamiltons whipped around towards the now open door, where small Angelica was standing, clearly horrified.

"Mama! Papa! You must come see!" she screeched, then sprinted back downstairs. Alex and Eliza shared a look, and then, without bothering to change, ran down after their daughter.

"Angelica, what is it?"

Philip then stepped forward, hugging himself in fear, "There-there are men outside- they-" he barely managed to choke out any words at all, he was crying.

Angelica spoke for him, "We were going to grab an apple to eat and- we saw some creepy men outside- one started to turn the doorknob and- we barricaded the door and-"

Sure enough, the couch was pushed against the door, along with a few chairs.

Eliza took action. "Angelica, what do they look like? These men?"

"Look outside-"

Alex made way to the curtains, and pulled one back slightly. Immediately, he jumped back, falling onto his ass and very nearly bumping his head on the table leg behind him.

The kids and Eliza rushed towards the curtain- and all three screamed. A dark, hooded figure peered into their kitchen- it radiated with evil, made you feel cold and- it seemed to drain the happiness away from everything. Alex felt like he'd never feel happiness again, he felt like he was drowning- like _he couldn't breathe- he couldn't breathe he couldn't breathe-_

"...are they, Mama!? Who are they!?"

"They- I don't- I don't know what they're doing in America-"

"Who are they!?"

"They're called Dementors- Philip! Grab your brothers- Angelica! Go to the loungeroom! Grab the red pot filled with dust- don't stray away from the fireplace! Alexander!"

 _He couldn't breathe_. "Eliza?"

"Follow Angelica! Don't let her out of your sight!"

 _He couldn't breathe._

He ran to the loungeroom, followed Angie- where was his breath? nearly collapsed onto the floor- what was happening? found himself gasping for air- angelica was trying to calm him down, _he was so lucky to have such a wonderful daughter-_

Eliza ran in, carrying James and holding Alex Jr's hand-

"Angelica, hand me that pot- okay, step inside the fireplace- yes you heard me! get in- grab a handful of dust- don't let it spill! grab the powder- then, as you throw it onto the ground below you, yell- 'MACUSA!' okay?"

Everything was a blur and he couldn't _breathe_.

Bright, green flames engulfed his children and he _screamed_ and _collapsed_ -

"Alexander, they're not dead- they're travelling by floo-powder! Get in-"

Then he was forcefully shoved **_into his room, crying for his papa_** into the fireplace and given a fistful of dust-

"Throw it onto the ground and yell 'MACUSA' Alexander, okay?"

He barely choked out the word, and the last thing he saw was Eliza's horrified face as he was too engulfed by the green flames- he was spinning out of control, felt like he was going to be _sick_ , he caught glimpses of all these places and Alex wasn't sure what was happening- where was he going-?!

It began to slow down and Alex felt dizzy, and nauseous... it all finally came to a halt and he fell out at his kids' feet.

"Papa!"

A poof sounded behind him and Alex saw his wife's feet step in front of him.

"Alexander! Are you alright? I'm so sorry I rushed you, but we needed to leave."

Eliza helped him to his feet, and he glanced around at his surroundings. "..How...how did we get here?"

"The Floo-Network. I'll explain later. Take a seat, I'm going to confront these idiots about the Dementors."

Philip and Angelica helped him into a chair, and he curled up into a ball, trying to focus on his breathing. Un deux trois quatre cinq six sept huit neuf dix. Deep breaths. Count to ten. Repeat.

"...going to be okay, right Papa?"

Alexander lifted his head to see all of his kidts staring at him. _They depend on you_.

"Yes. Yes, of course. We're going to be just fine," _put on a brave face,_ "Just a complication. We'll be home in no time," _and comfort the ones that need you the most_.

 _I probably look like hell_. He probably looked ridiculous as well. Still in his night-gown. To be fair, all of his kids were still in their pajamas too, and Eliza.

His whole family looked ridiculous. That cheered him up a little.

His little cheery mood didn't last long. It eventually turned into humiliation.

"Hamilton?"

And of fucking course. This pompous ass had to show his face.

"Jefferson."

Alex felt his face and ears heat up- which just made him even more embarrassed, knowing that Jefferson knew that he felt embarrassed.

"Why are you here, Hamilton? In your nightgown, no less," Jefferson sneered.

Alex stood up, almost all of his fears disapparating and replaced with an urge to fight this stupid man.

"I could be asking you the same," he said, staring dead into the eyes of the other.

Jefferson raised an eyebrow. "I'm here because of the Dementors roaming the streets."

At this, Alex was taken aback. "Oh. Me too, I suppose. My kids saw them and Eliza dragged us all here via... I think she said the Floo-Network?"

"That would explain why you're not dressed, then. Dragged out of bed, were you?"

"My whole family is undressed, Jefferson. Don't target me when you could also be laughing at the rest."

Of course, Thomas Jefferson wouldn't do that no matter how much he hated the Hamiltons, Eliza aside. Alex knew this.

Jefferson, the shit, took a step towards Alexander and _physically looked down_. Alex felt very small all of a sudden, and he hated it.

"Wouldn't dream of it, darlin'."

And _fuck_. The shithead put on his strong Southern accent. It appeared Jefferson knew Alex's weakness. It was time to retreat.

"Look, Jefferson, as much as I'd love to continue this conversation, I do actually need to-" however, Alexander was cut off.

Panicked voices echoed through the room, and Eliza came running back along with the children.

"The dementors have found a way in. They're searching America for some sort of criminal- hello, Mr. Jefferson- apparently, some dark wizard from Britain escaped here, and the Ministry sent their dementors without even asking if it was alright. The President- magical president- is currently paying a visit to the Minister for Magic, everything should be sorted out soon, however, like I said-"

"The dementors found a way in," Alex finished. He felt the colour drain from his face and began to feel faint again. Panicky.

Cold.

Like he'd never be happy again.

Apparently, it wasn't only Alex who felt this way. Eliza gathered the kids and brought them in closer; they were all shivering. Warily, Alexander glanced to the side where Jefferson was now standing and even he was shivering, and pale. Upon looking around the room... he noted everyone was.

"How-how long will they be here?" Alex whispered, clutching Eliza's hand tight.

"I don't know."

Everyone was dead silent as the dementors looked around. They were so fucking creepy... and... emotionally draining to look at.

One began to approach- Jefferson, it seemed... and Alex recoiled away from the man.

However- Jefferson pulled out a stick- the wand! That's the one Alex saw him use earlier, at the dinner! Jefferson pointed it at the dementor with lightning speed and screamed- _"Expecto Patronum!_ " and blinding light exploded out the tip of Jefferson's wand, it engulfed the dementor and through the white light there was... a bird, of sorts. A swan, perhaps? It- yes! It was a swan! But how on earth did it get in? Did that "expecto patronum" spell summon it somehow?

Alex decided to ask about it later. Right now, the important thing was that Jefferson was DOING something. He seemed to fend the dementors off, and if Alexander was going to be honest, it was epic. However, he still felt that sensation of dread, of extreme depression. It made him want to...

Well, it reminded him of his dark childhood days.

"..chocolate."

Alex blinked, and suddenly Jefferson was standing in front of him. "Sorry what?"

"Have some chocolate, Hamilton. It makes you feel better."t

He heard Eliza munching away beside him, as were the kids. Reluctantly, he took the piece of chocolate from Jefferson and took a bite. Sure enough, warmth traveled through his veins and he felt instantly ten times better. Still scared, and uncertain, but not shaking in his shoes or having terrible thoughts. Maybe that's why people say chocolate helps depression... because it literally does. Was it magical chocolate or just plain old chocolate? He voiced this.

Jefferson fucking laughed. "It's normal chocolate," he said, shaking his stupid head, making the mop of curls swish.

Fucking Jefferson.

 _Maybe later_ Alex thought, and he scolded himself. Yes, Jefferson was an attractive man, but he was also a piece of utter shit.  
It wasn't HIS fault the stupid man wouldn't stop flirting with him. At least, Alex took it as flirting- and even if it wasn't, it was obviously just Jefferson trying to fuck with his head- well, it wasn't going to work.

People all around were eating chocolate now, and Jefferson had taken to talking with the other families. Asking if they were alright. Because apparently he actually cared? Since when had Jefferson ever cared about anyone else other than himself? He didn't. Never did, never would. Just because he cast away those creatures DOES NOT mean he CARED.

It was a while before Alex spoke again. He was contemplating that feeling he had, when the Dementors were present. Were they doing that? Were they... sucking the happiness out of him or something? Alex turned to Eliza and asked her.

"Dementors negatively alter the atmosphere around them and make you feel like you'd never be happy again. They're the foulest creatures that walk this Earth if you ask me. Alexander- consider yourself lucky. If that dementor got any closer to you, it probably would have kissed you."

At Alexander's mortified expression, Eliza decidedly added- "Not that kind of kiss- they suck the life out of you. It drives people mad. Eventually, they just take your soul and then you're dead... if they do it enough times. People in Azkaban- wizarding prison in Britain- have it done to them all the time. The Dementors guard that prison."

In the centre of the room, a woman stepped up in front of the statue. She looked important. Eliza must've noticed Alexander's questioning expression because she elaborated.

"Emily Rappaport. She's the President."

"What?!" Alex hissed.

Eliza turned to her husband in confusion, "What's so confusing?"

"The Magical president- is female...?"

"Yes. What's wrong with that?"

Alex started to say something that would surely earn him a slap from Angelica, however he decided against it when he saw Eliza's pointed glare. She would probably slap him, too.

The woman- President- began to speak, and all eyes turned towards her. Alex listened intently.

"The Dementors have been temporarily restrained. The Minister for Magic and I have been discussing the situation, and have decided that the Dementors may stay-" a few people shouted angrily, and the President held up her hand, telling them to quiet down without even speaking, "As long as you do not approach them on the streets or point at them- as you know No-Majes cannot see Dementors- then yes, they will be staying until they've caught their criminal. The Minister has requested we take the criminal to court, however, and I need two Lawyers to help me. Please, raise your hand if you are qualified and wish to help."

Alexander hesitated for a moment. If he did this, it would be his first case in the Wizarding world... and Alexander still had so much to learn, so many spells to discover. How can he defend a magical criminal if he still knew next to nothing about wizarding?

And yet, despite his worries, Alexander puffed out his chest and raised a hand. He was the only one with a hand up. The President turned to face him, and so did the entire room.

"Alexander Hamilton, is it not? You recently joined."

Alex gave a nod of his head, not wanting to say something stupid and instead taking to being as polite as he could. And that was achieved by not talking... or so Burr had told him. And Alex felt his stomach sink as he remembered... oh... _he couldn't talk to Burr anymore_.

The President nodded in return, then faced the crowd once more. "I need one more volunteer," she yelled over the sea of people.

There was quiet. For just a moment. No one moved.

A hand was raised, and everyone turned to face the man. Alexander stood on his tip-toes, trying to see him, but was too _fucking_ short.

The President nodded at this man as well. "Jalin Lovegood, correct? Then it is done. Hamilton, you will defend, and Lovegood, you will oppose. Dismissed. Stay safe, all of you."

The crowd departed, and Alex stood, shellshocked.

Jalin Lovegood. It couldn't be...

The crowd departed, and Alexander got a good look at the man.

The man that flirted with him at the bookstore stared back, cheeks flushed.

Fuck.


	16. Lovegood

**let's play a game; find the Sherlock reference**

 **fair warning, my writing is kind of crap in this chapter**

* * *

Two days after that _incident,_ Alexander was seen pacing the graveyard, talking to himself. He did this often, but not as much as he used to- before the war, pacing in a graveyard and talking to no one in particular helped him remember certain texts from books. Now, many years later, Alexander had taken it up again to remember all this wizarding shit Lafayette was cramming into his brain. Alex had to work with Lovegood that day, so of course, Alex got up early in the morning to read and read and never stop. Then, he took all these books to the graveyard, and of course, paced. Recited. The reason for this was because he didn't want to appear stupid in front of Lovegood- that man was most likely pureblooded, and most likely had grown up in the wizarding world. Alex still knew next to nothing. So of course, he would cram all the knowledge into his brain in a desperate attempt to learn a bit more.

It was peaceful in the graveyard, no one liked to visit often, so it was perfect for an evening or morning stroll. Sometimes one needed to clear their head and take a break, and a quiet place such as a graveyard was perfect for such things.

Usually. Unfortunately for Alex, Eliza decided to tag along and read. But he was almost certain she was just watching him instead; it made him uncomfortable.

"Alexander, why are you so worked up about this?" Eliza asked suddenly.

"Because," Alex responded, "I don't want to look like an idiot. Lovegood will probably ask all sorts of things, and it'd be humiliating if I don't know! Or like, what if he says something and I don't understand what he means, and then I have to either ask him and look stupid or play along and have no idea what I'm doing!"

"I'm sure if you just explain to him your situation, he'll understand. From what I saw he doesn't seem to be the judgemental type."

"No, Betsey, it isn't that simple. He-" Alex paused for a moment, "He- he flirted with me, Eliza! In the bookstore. He saw me and flirted with me."

That was when Eliza's uncertain expression turned into an angry one. "He did? And how did you react, Alexander?" she asked firmly, not taking her eyes off him once.

Alex gulped. Her eyes were burning into his soul. Alex wondered if she could read minds, and then panicked for a moment because _what if she could read minds?_ Then he pushed that thought away because no, Eliza could not read minds, she would've found out about Maria long ago if she could.

"I kindly told him to fuck off."

"Good."

At that, Eliza went back to her reading. Alex stared at her nervously for a moment, wondering how she'd react if he told her about Maria, then pushed all thoughts aside and instead focused on his pacing and thinking.

 _What if Eliza could read minds?_

* * *

It was time to leave for MACUSA. Alexander had just about given up on apparation, so he asked Eliza if he could use the Floo-Powder. She simply shrugged and said, "Yes, go ahead."

So, he did just that. He stepped inside the fireplace, feeling ridiculous, grabbed a handful of floo-powder, and threw it onto the ground below him. "MACUSA!" he yelled.

It was a very unpleasant experience, but much better than the last time now that he wasn't in the middle of a panic attack. He staggered out, coughing, and covered in soot. Quickly, he brushed it off. Then he reached into his pocket where he stored his glasses and put them on. Alex figured it made him look a little bit older than he actually was, and felt more confident with them on anyway. He didn't want to admit it- but he was nervous as fuck.

Alex looked around, searching for Lovegood's light brown hair pulled up into a ponytail, but couldn't find him. However, on further inspection, Alex noticed a man with a powdered wig barely covering the majority of his head. Yes, that must be him. Because out the back, he could see a light-brown ponytail.

Slowly, Alexander approached the man, then tapped his back. Lovegood jumped around, startled, but settled down once he saw who it was. "Hamilton," he said, deadpan.

"Lovegood," Alex responded, "Shall we begin?"

"We shall."

"Show me the way."

Lovegood immediately began walking towards the stairs, and Alex groaned.

 _Fifty-five flights of stairs._

* * *

It took years (minutes) but they finally arrived. Alex followed Lovegood into the room. A few heads turned at the disturbance, but nothing more.

"We're sharing an office. Garrison doesn't want to be the one cleaning up anymore, so we're swapping from desks to rooms. Be a lot less cluttered, too. He was thinking of inserting a kitchen..."

Alex, at this point, had tuned out the rambling. He wondered for a brief moment if that was what he sounded like to other people. Then he pushed that thought away.

Lovegood unlocked the door to their office, fuck we're sharing an office, then immediately beelined to the desk on the right. It was already covered in all sorts of things; documents, indoor plants, Alex was certain he saw a giant ink stain...

The thought occurred to Alexander that there was no way the indoor plants could survive in their room because there were no windows. He wondered if there was a magical spell for keeping things preserved.

"...so, make yourself at home. If I find your belongings on my desk I'm throwing them away. If I see anything has been taken from my desk, or messed with, I will murder you. My stuff is mine, and your stuff is yours. You got that?"

Now, this was a weird, different side of Lovegood that Alex didn't want to see more of. "Got it."

"Wonderful. Now, while the Dementors try to find their criminal we have to-"

"Do the research, I know, I've been a lawyer before."

Lovegood raised an eyebrow, and Alex did the same in response.

"Any good?"

" _Very_ good."

It was evident that Lovegood had never heard of Alex, or the man would already know.

"It's been a while since we've had a _good_ lawyer down here. I hope you're not exaggerating."

Alexander, in an attempt to make a good impression, feigned offence and placed a hand over his heart, "I would never!" he proclaimed, exaggerating.

 _Thank fuck_ , Lovegood laughed a little bit. Well, it wasn't necessarily a laugh but it was something other than attitude.

"Well then, Hamilton, I suppose you better get to researching. There's a lot of evidence going against this person, you're going to have a tough time finding anything that might help her case."

"Her?"

"No one told you? Yeah, this criminal is female. Were you not _expecting that?_ "

Alex held up both hands, defending himself. "I've just... never dealt with women before."

Lovegood raised an eyebrow in what Alex could only assume a teasing manner. Alex felt his face grow red when he realised why.

"Not like that, you idiot!" Hamilton yelled, and Lovegood actually laughed this time. "I'm married, of course I've- how dare you insinuate that I-"

Lovegood held his hand up to Alexander's mouth in an attempt to apparently silence him.

"I was joking, buddy. Get on with the research now."

Scowling, Alexander moved to sit down at what was now his desk. The office was already supplied with ink and quills, which Alex was very grateful for, having somehow forgotten his own.

He picked up the person report that had been dumped on his desk and began to read.

And he read.

And he read.

And he read.

It was a solid three hours before either Alexander or Lovegood talked, both were engrossed in their work.

Lovegood stood suddenly, stretching and rolling his wrists. "Lunch break. I recommend you grab something to eat."

Alexander glanced up briefly from his work, then lowered his head again. "Not hungry."

Lovegood, however, didn't take no for an answer. "Come on, you need to eat something. When was the last time you had food?"

Alex considered the question for a moment. "This morning."

"It's past noon now. Come on, I'm going to get you some food. Follow me."

Alexander didn't follow. So, Lovegood grabbed his wrist _the jerk_ and pulled him out the office, into where a bunch of people were talking casually, and eating in the... kitchen?

"There's a kitchen in here? How come I didn't notice that befo-" Alex started to say.

"Like I said, Garrison was considering putting a kitchen in here so he did just that, apparently."

"But how...?"

"You seem to be forgetting that we're all wizards here, buddy."

"What, so you can just... materialise whole rooms?"

Lovegood gave a puzzled look. Alexander did the same.

"Are you no-maj born?" Lovegood asked carefully, slowly.

"What would be wrong with that?" Alex retorted.

"Nothing! Nothing. Just- did you not go to school, then? You should've learned all this stuff at Ilvermorny, but it honestly seems like you barely know anything."

Alex hesitated. "I... I only found out this year that I even had magical abilities. I never knew."

"What? But you should've received a letter-"

"I was born in the British Isles."

"Then you should've gone to Hogwarts!"

Alexander shrugged. "I never got any letter."

"But that's just wrong. You should have received one. Unless your parents kept it from you..."

"I-... yeah, maybe."

Lovegood took one of the sandwiches that were laying on the table and gave one to Alexander. It was just ham and cheese, but just the look of it made Alex realise how hungry he actually was. He took it gratefully.

"Tell me about yourself, Hamilton. If we're going to be working together, sharing an office, we may as well get to know each other well."

"Are you trying to flirt with me again, Lovegood? Don't tell me you're trying to take advantage of this situation."

The man turned beetroot red, and it was hilarious. "I wasn't flirting with you!" he declared in a hurried whisper, "I don't even like you anymore. Why would you even bring that up? I want to be friends with you, Hamilton, nothing more."

"Let me call you Jalin, then. I feel uncomfortable calling you Lovegood. Doesn't roll off the tongue."

"Only if you let me call you Alexander."

"Fine. Jalin."

"Alexander."

Alex took a bite of his sandwich.

Jalin stared at him, judging silently.

Alex, now that he was completely on the same level with Jalin, he realised with a start that they were both the same height. Silently, he celebrated.

* * *

 **don't mind me, just casually changing the history like the universe actually belongs to me which of course it does not**

 **Eliza was really possessive over Alexander and started a whisper campaign about a poor girl who Alex's eyes lingered on for a bit too long- so yes, it is very in character for her to be angry about this one dude flirting with her husband - I'm surprised she forgave him for the Reynolds Pamphlet so quickly though. in the musical, it takes Philip's death for her to forgive poor Alex, but** **irl she was like, mad for a few weeks maybe, but she got over it really quick**

 **no, Eliza is not a legilimens, but I heavily considered it a few chapters back**


	17. Jalin, Jalin, and the Hypocrite

' **how to make your main character unlikable' - a reference guide  
**

 **Notes:**

 **a short chapter, but it's not filler**

 **mostly**

 **enjoy my writing**

* * *

Just like Jalin had said, the case was impossibly difficult. There was no way any average lawyer could possibly defend a blatantly obvious criminal. However, Alex was not your average lawyer and was certain he could find something, but all the odds were stacking up against him. Why on Earth was she even being put up for trial anyway? It was so obvious she was just plain evil- a child could recognise that fact.

Sighing, Alex placed down the quill then placed his head on his hands. For the first time, in a long time, he felt stumped. He didn't know what to write, how to plan this out, nothing. **(little did you know, this was almost exactly how the author felt when writing this chapter)**

* * *

Jalin walked down the empty hall with a certain swagger that made him look more confident than he actually was. He looked distant. His eyes stared straight ahead, unblinking. No emotion showed on the man's face.

He halted suddenly and glanced to his left. There, a portrait was placed lopsidedly. He reached out to fix it.

"I don't see why you need to fix everything that's even a little out of place."

Jalin jumped and whipped around. He came face to face with Garrison.

Garrison smirked. "Why are you not working, Lovegood?"

"I needed air."

"That, or did you want time away from Hamilton?"

Jalin sighed. "Both I suppose..."

"I don't blame you. He's a lot."

"You've barely met him though, haven't you?"

Garrison scoffed. "Barely met him, yeah, that doesn't mean I don't know him. I used to follow the no-maj papers. You know he founded the New York Post?"

"He did?"

"Yeah. He was really popular in the no-maj world. Now that he's officially labelled a wizard, though, he can't exactly write for that world anymore..."

"Really popular? How come I've never heard of him then?"

Garrison shrugged. "You're always so engrossed by your work and your painting. Do you ever really check to see what's going on?"

"No..." _touche_. "I suppose not."

"Anyway," Garrison reached behind Jalin and fixed the painting for him, "You best get back soon. Hamilton won't hold out much longer."

Jalin stared as Garrison walked away, then realised what the man just said. "What? What do you mean he won't hold out? What's happening?"

No response, just laughter.

Git.

 _Well_ , Jalin thought, _I suppose I should head back then._

He sighed.

He didn't want to head back, not now.

So, he turned a few corners until he found the men's bathroom. He pushed open the door and slammed it behind him.

"What's become of you, Jalin?" he muttered to himself. Unfortunately, his reflection replied.

 _"You're a mess."_

Jalin glared at the mirror. "I know. Thank you, Captain Obvious."

 _"I'm just pointing out what you feel. That's my job, isn't it?"_

"That's true."

 _"Like the fact that you're in love."_

Jalin remained silent.

 _"It's sodomy."_

"I know."

 _"You'd be killed if anyone found out."_

"I don't think the consequences are that dire. Not here, at least."

 _"It's still against the law. It's unnatural."_

"I can't help who I fall for."

 _"Bullshit. "_

Jalin winced.

 _"Just dissociate yourself from him, stop thinking of him."_

"I can't stop thinking about someone I work with."

 _"You only have to work this once case together."_

"We share an office."

 _"You can request to be moved."_

"No, Garrison wouldn't allow it. It took him ages to arrange all this and he's not going to throw it all away because I have an infatuation. You know this as much as I."

 _"I suppose you're right. Well... I'm right. Because I'm you."_

"Yeah."

There was a moment of silence between Jalin and the Reflection.

 _"You could always resign."_

"No."

 _"It was just a suggestion."_

"It's a stupid one."

 _"You calling yourself stupid, loverboy?"_

.

.

.

"I suppose I am, yeah."

* * *

It was a long time before Jalin emerged from the bathroom. After a while of silence between him and Reflection, he finally up and left.

He power-walked down the halls, determined to get back before lunch break. He ended up arriving just in time- people had just begun emerging from their new offices.

"-AND FURTHERMORE!"

Shit.

Jalin reluctantly made his way towards the kitchen, where a very angry and very red-faced Alexander was screaming at a very shaken up colleague.

"Foreigners will generally be apt to bring with them attachments to the persons they have left behind; to the country of their nativity, and to its particular customs and manners."

"But y-"

"It is unlikely that they will bring with them that temperate love of liberty, so essential to real republicanism!"

"But Ha-"

Jalin couldn't believe his ears.

 _He grew up in the British Isles, didn't he? He must be an immigrant- so why is he bashing them?_

Hamilton seemed to go on and on and on, and he didn't seem near the point of stopping. Jalin wondered if this is what Garrison meant.

The whole room was filled with the sound of Hamilton's yelling, and the poor co-worker seemed near to tears. Garrison was watching from the corner, unnamused, but not about to step in any time soon by the looks of things.

Jalin, however, was having none of it.

He stepped forward and placed a hand on Hamilton's shoulder.

"Hamilton."

The immigrant seemed to freeze up under his touch, and Jalin felt a wave of warmth travel through his body. _No_.

"That's enough."

By some miracle, the immigrant stepped back, head held a little lower.

"Thank you." Jalin turned to the colleague. "Are you alright?"

The young man nodded and proceeded to back away awkwardly.

Jalin then, with a stroke of courage, grabbed Hamilton's wrist and pulled the man to their office.

"You _hypocrite!"_ he yelled.

Hamilton jumped, _actually jumped_ , and took a step back in surprise.

"You said you grew up in the British Isles! How could you be so biased against immigrants when you are one yourself!?"

"Immigration is-"

"No. No, no, nevermind- I don't want to hear it. Get back to work."

"But I haven't had lu-"

"Get back to work!"

With that, Jalin stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

* * *

Alexander was shook.

* * *

 **"Although Alexander Hamilton was himself an immigrant, he was adamantly opposed to the open immigration policies that President Thomas Jefferson proposed in his first annual message to Congress in 1801." I copy pasted Hamilton's argument from online, because fuck that man I can't write like Hamilton he was a genius debater and all I've ever done is argue online**

 **I did research- Alander is a defense attorney, and Jalin is a prosecutor. I don't think that changes?  
the upcoming courtroom scene is going to be the hardest thing I'll ever write, and I'm nervous tbh, but hopefully I'll get through it :)  
I'll be doing a lot of research, and I might need a bit of help too, but worry not! I shall finish it! (maybe) (possibly) (god I hope I do)**


	18. Your Obedient Servant

**WARNING I can't write like Alexander could. At all. I at least believe I got the character right...**

 **agh, forgive me. I might have made Alexander a bit of an idiot. No, I mean, more than he already was. Ugh, just... pretend he knows what he's doing and he's just desperately trying to prove himself in a debate where the offender is right...**

 **alexander is an idiot, more than usual in this fic apparently. I'll try make him smarter in the near future but no promises k**  
 **'cause... I'm trying to write a lot of people who are a lot smarter than me. And it hurts my brain ;-;**

 **hey, this chapter was super late (AND SHORT!) because I had major, MAJOR writer's block. Forgive me, but this is all I could think of...**

* * *

 _Dear Sir_

 _I trust you'll find this letter in good health. I am addressing this to you so we may talk about the acrimony in which you treated me last week. I was merely expressing a well-thought-out opinion and though you may dislike it, this country we have killed and died for is supposed to represent freedom and independence; and yet you set aside my thoughts and instead attempted to fill my brain with yours. I will not stand for such indelicate behaviour and I demand you change your ways or I shall be asking for a separate colleague._

 _Your most obt srvnt,_

 _A. Hamilton_

* * *

 _Dear Mr. Hamilton_

 _You never fail to surprise me, Alexander Hamilton._

 _For instance, it took you one whole week to write me. I'm surprised because you would have under normal circumstances written me sooner._

 _And I'm surprised by your idiocy._

 _I did not force my own opinion onto yours, I merely insulted you for being a hypocrite. I don't want to intrude on your thoughts and convince them to mine, I want you to see that you're an idiotic hypocrite who can't see when he is being discriminatory._

 _I do not discriminate, Alexander Hamilton. I treat everyone equally and with respect... 'respect' doesn't appear to be a word in your vocabulary._

 _I have the honour to be your Obedient Servant,_

 _Jalin L._

* * *

 _Sir,_

 _I will not tolerate petty insults. Say what you will, Lovegood, I am not a hypocrite, and I am most certainly not an idiot. If you believe that I am as such then you must be idiotic yourself. I'm smarter than you know, Lovegood, you have no right to state otherwise._

 _I have not discriminated against anyone. As far as I can tell I've expressed my opinion and that is that. You are making false claims and I despise your impropriety. I am expecting an apology for how I was treated._

* * *

 _Hamilton,_

 _I will not write you an apology. You know just as well as I that an apology is not needed in this discussion._

 _Alexander, admit defeat peacefully._

 _Jalin_

* * *

 _Sir,_

 _If you will not admit that you are wrong and apologise then I'm afraid you leave me no choice but to challenge you to a duel._

 _A. Ham_

* * *

 _Dear Alexander_

 _You are more of an idiot than I originally thought._

 _I respectfully decline, like a civilised human being. I will not duel. I am an honorable man._

 _Your most faithful and obedient servant,_

 _Jalin Lovegood_

* * *

 **next chapter is courtroom scene. I'm not looking forward to writing it, and I'll need a lot of help from people and from online sources, but maybe I'll manage idk**


	19. The Courtroom

***inhales***

 ***exhales***

 **let's do this.**

 **eveline is pronounced 'eh-veh-lyne' in this fic**

 **I'm using the english name for the japanese guy bc fuck you, that's why**

* * *

 _26/3/1791_

Alexander took a deep, calming breath. He straightened his papers, even though they were already straightened, and he balanced on the balls of his feet.

Yes, okay, Alex was _nervous._ But he had a reason to be, at least. This was his first trial in the wizarding world. His first trial in the _wizarding world_ was about to begin shortly.

From where he was standing, Alex could see a very calm Jalin Lovegood flipping through his papers and rearranging a few. Alex watched as this man, this _strange, strange man,_ fiddled with the powdered wig on his head.

Admittedly, Alexander felt a little embarrassed about challenging Jalin to a duel. The truth is he was extremely sleep deprived and not exactly thinking straight. After finally passing out and thinking back on what he wrote, he hid in his office for a few days. It was Eliza who eventually bribed him out.

Bribery. What a cheap tactic.

Alex read through his papers one more time, just to make sure everything was in order...

 _Defendant: Julie Eveline_

 _Charges: Voluntary manslaughter_

 _Weapon used: Wand, currently in the Judge's care_

 _Spell(s): Avada Kedavra, the killing curse, unforgivable number three_

He didn't finish reading before the Judge took the stand. Alex placed his hands behind his back. The Judge wasted no time and got straight to it.

"Is the Prosecution Jalin Lovegood ready?"

"The Prosecution is ready, Your Honour."

"Is the Defense Alexander Hamilton ready?"

Alex took a deep breath. "The Defense is ready, Your Honour."

"Then let us begin. In this matter, the State has charged the defendant with third-degree murder of multiple British and American citizens. Third-degree murder is the voluntary killing of another person while acting with an extreme disregard for human life. In order to convict the defendant of third-degree murder, the State must prove that the defendant caused the death of Samantha Duke and Xavier Torres; that the defendant's conduct created a very high degree of risk to the life of Samantha Duke and Xavier Torres; and that the defendant, conscious of such risk, acted with extreme disregard for the life endangering consequences."

The Judge moved ever so slightly so he was facing Jalin. "Prosecution, if you will?"

Jalin nodded, took a step forward, and placed his papers on the table behind him.

"The Prosecution calls witness Samuel Duke to the stand."

Alex watched as a short, blonde, slightly tanned teenager walk up to them.

"Please state your name and profession."

"My name is Samuel Duke, I don't have a job. I'm the brother of the victim Samantha Duke."

Poor kid.

"Can you explain to us what you saw, Mr Duke?"

Samuel looked almost smug when referred to as 'Mr. Duke'. Rich, then. Probably gets called that a lot.

"My cousin and I saw a woman, just like her," he referred to the defendant, "use the killing curse on my sister and my cousin's friend."

So the two victims knew each other.

"We were on the top floor of our house when we saw it. We looked down after we saw the flash of green light. We made it to the window just in time to see my sister falling to the ground, dead."

"Can you tell us what the defendant was wearing on the night of the murder?"

"Long, black robes. Like the one she's wearing now. Only these I think were a bit more tattered."

"Do you know what the approximate time of the murder was?"

"Yeah, around eleven pm."

Alex tried to search for any contradictions in the testimony, but he couldn't find a single one.

"Can you describe in detail what you saw?"

Samuel nodded after a moment's hesitation. "So after we saw my sister and Xavier fall to the ground, we saw Eveline kneel down to probably rob them. We watched as she checked their pockets, basically turning their clothes inside out. Then she trashed the place with her wand. She broke the grandfather clock in half."

Alex spoke up. "How did you see all of this from where you were?"

Samuel faced Alex. "The window was pretty large. Our family is well-off, see? So we can afford places with a view."

"So-"

"Hamilton, please refrain from questioning my witness until it's time for your cross-examination," Jalin said calmly.

Alex crossed his arms and said no more.

"So, Mr. Duke..."

this testimony went on for a few minutes longer. It was all strong evidence. And all the signs pointed towards Julie Eveline indeed being the murderer.

The strange thing, however, was that Eveline had not spoken a single word the whole time.

Finally, _finally_ , Jalin concluded his testimony with Duke.

Alex perked up slightly now that it was over, the nerves from before disappearing from his mind. He made way to stand beside the desk.

"Mr. Hamilton, you may now begin your cross-examination."

 _Finally!_

Alexander had a few questions that he HOPED would reveal some sort of contradiction in the testimony.

"So, Mr. Samuel Duke, I have a few questions for you and I require you to answer honestly and without hesitation."

Samuel nodded.

"So, Duke, if you can, please tell us what you saw the victims wearing that night?"

"Objection," Jalin called, and Alexander turned to glare at him. "That question is irrelevant to the case."

Alex responded sharply with, "Lovegood, it's my job to find contradictions within the testimony. I need to know every detail."

Thankfully, Jalin let it be.

"...Xavier was wearing a dark purple vest over a long black shirt, with a cravat. His pants were black."

No contradictions yet.

"My sister was wearing a pale, red dress-"

"Objection." Alex pointed an accusing finger at Duke. "According to these papers, the dress was pure white."

"It was the middle of the night," Jalin intervened, "and candles weren't lit. He could've mistaken colours easily."

"If the candles aren't lit then there is no lighting to make the dress appear a different colour," Alex shot back.

"It was the middle of the night," Jalin repeated, "It was dark. If no candles are lit, then it's pitch black. It would be hard to tell what anything is the colour of."

"You must have terrible eyesight if you struggle with colours, especially white, in the dark. Besides," Alex crossed his arms, "If it was too dark to determine _colour,_ how did your client see anything of the murder?"

Jalin crossed his arms, too. "Perhaps the client has my terrible eyesight, then."

Samuel held up his hand so he could interrupt, "Mr. Hamilton, I'm telling you what I saw and I saw a pale, red dress. I wouldn't lie in a testimony, Mr. Hamilton."

Alexander squinted so everything in the room looked blurry. "Are you colourblind, Mr. Duke?"

Samuel grinned slightly, and that made Alex mad. "Not at all, Sir. I simply mistook the colour, is all."

"My client was standing on the top floor of an apartment building. From where he was, looking down into the room, not everything would be absolutely clear. It is entirely plausible that Mr. Duke saw pale red instead of white," Jalin said, not once taking his eyes off of Alexander.

Alex grumbled a curse word under his breath, then turned back to the witness.

Luckily, he had another trick up his sleeve.

"Samuel Duke, can you explain to the court what you were doing in a separate building to the rest of your family? Why were you in a different apartment?"

There was a beat of silence, and from the corner of his eye, Alex saw a Juror shifting in their seat, sitting forward. Interested.

"I..."

Alex raised an eyebrow. Had he found something?

"I plead the fifth."

Alex rubbed at his forehead, trying to ignore an incoming headache, while the courtroom delved into whispers.

He was about to ask Duke to please, for the love of god, just tell me, this is crucial information, but Jalin saw what he was about to do and stopped him.

Bastard,

"He has the right not to testify if it incriminates against him."

"Well, that just leaves the matter of "what was he doing?" doesn't it."

"Whatever my client was doing, it's not relevant to this case. Please move on, Hamilton."

Alex grumbled while he sorted through his papers, back turned to everyone.

He was running out of ideas. If he didn't find another contradiction, something that proved his client innocent, then he'd lose the whole case and look like an idiot. Then again, if the defendant truly was guilty, then perhaps it would be better for her to be locked up in... Azkaban, wasn't it?

"Has the Defense got anything else to say?"

Truly, perhaps it would be better for the world... but then Alex would have to lose and he hated that.

Decisions, decisions.

"...no, Your Honour."

BANG BANG

"That concludes the cross-examination of one Samuel Duke. Does the Prosecution wish to call another witness to the stand?"

"Yes, Your Honour. The Prosecution calls witness Jacob Pierre to the stand. He doesn't speak English, so his slave will be translating."

Two people walked up to the stand. An Asian man with wild brown hair and pale skin who Alex could only assume was Pierre, and a short black woman alongside him.

Alexander wondered how the slave learned English. Perhaps she had been taught? Actually, thinking about it, she was probably taught specifically to BE a translator. That would make the most sense.

"Mr. Pierre, would you explain to the court what you saw that night?"

The slave translated back to Pierre, and Pierre spoke swiftly in response. When he was done, the slave translated back to the court in a thick accent.

"I saw it all very clearly, as I was just outside the window when it happened. I heard the woman yell the killing curse at the two other people and I saw the green light. Then, once they were gone, the woman broke many nearby objects, she was very angry."

"And was this woman the same one you see here today?" Jalin gestured towards the defendant.

"Yes."

"Can you describe in detail what you saw?"

Everyone patiently waited while Pierre talked, then patiently waited while the slave translated slowly back.

"You will have to pardon my bad memory. All I can truly remember is after a while of breaking things, the woman held up a vial in glee. I believe that was what she was looking for."

"What did this vial look like? Could you see what was inside?"

"Yes, it was golden liquid."

 _Liquid Luck!_

"Felix Felicis, then?"

"I think so, yes."

"Has the Defense anything to say on the matter?"

No contradictions, nothing... there isn't anything else to say. He can't object. Perhaps... perhaps this was a case... he'd have to lose.

"No... No, Your Honour. I... don't have any objections."

"Well, this concludes the testimony of Jacob Pierre."

"I'm... not quite finished, Your Honour," Jalin announced.

 _Oh?_

"I have a few more questions to ask of Mr. Pierre."

 _Great. Bastard is probably trying to humiliate me further._

Alexander barely listened to what was being asked, knowing there was truly no point.

In an odd way, he felt slightly relieved. The defendant was guilty. No doubt about it. So, she should be locked up. Good. That's one less evil-doer left in the world.

And yet...

"Something just doesn't make _sense_ here..." Alex muttered to himself. He stared at the defendant for a good two minutes while Jalin talked.

Something wasn't right.

"...the witness stated that he clearly saw Miss Eveline that night..."

Alex picked up a sketched portrait of the defendant and examined it carefully.

Pale hair, pale skin, light blue eyes.

However...

Finally, it clicked.

 **"Objection!"**

Every face in the courtroom turned to Alexander, and he froze for a moment. _What if I'm wrong?_

 _No._ He took a deep breath and puffed out his chest.

"Miss Julie Eveline did commit the crimes," he stated, loud and clear, to the whole room.

 _This is basically suicide._

Jalin looked nervous. Uncertain.

 _Good. Maybe I'm right after all._

"So you're admitting defeat?" Jalin said after a few moments.

Alexander shook his head.

"No. Miss Julie Eveline did commit those crimes."

Everyone was confused. But Jalin knew. _He Knew._

Alex turned towards the defendant and pointed boldly at her.

 **"And that is _not_ Julie Eveline."**

The courtroom delved into chaos; the Jury talking amongst each other, bewildered, Jalin faceplanted his desk... even the Judge, who was supposed to remain mostly emotionless, looked a bit... _pissed off_ at Alexander's statement.

 **BANG BANG**

"Order! Order!" the Judge yelled, "Mr. Hamilton, explain yourself!"

"I'm telling you, that's not Julie Eveline! Look-" Alex held up the sketch of the defendant or the _not-_ defendant, so everyone could see.

"Look at the portrait! Really look! Don't you see something off here?"

Silence.

Alexander sighed. He walked into the middle of the room, then up to the Defendant. He stretched out his hand towards her hair and tucked it behind her ear.

Jalin seethed. It appeared he'd lost, and the Judge hadn't even given the verdict yet.

The Defendant looked so confused and scared, but once Alex held up the portrait next to her face in comparison, she understood. And screeched.

She pushed him away angrily, "What are you doing!?" she screamed. Her voice echoed in the courtroom, bouncing off the walls and straight into everyone's ears.

Alexander refrained from blocking his.

Wisely, he moved away from the defendant and held up the portrait to the Judge. "Look, Your Honour. In this portrait, Eveline has a scar on her right cheek. However as you saw before, the Defendant has no scar."

"Objection! It easily could've healed!" Jalin yelled.

"It was a permanent scar, Lovegood. Had you forgotten what was in those documents?"

The outraged Defendant screeched again, and this time, Alex really did block his ears.

"Clearly they must either be directly related or doppelgangers of each other!" Alexander yelled over her.

"That's preposterous!"

"They look almost exactly like each other!"

The only question remaining was... why is the defendant so pissed off about being found out? Surely, if she wasn't guilty, then...

Ah.

Siblings, then. Must care about each other a lot, if the identical twin is willing to pose as her sister to save her ass.

"They're siblings, most likely identical," Alex explain once the court had calmed down. Eveline was seen being held back by a few Jurors. She wanted to attack him... "Most likely scenario is this lady posed as her twin so she could save her."

"Most likely?" Jalin sneered, "Why the uncertainty, Hamilton?"

"Because I'm not certain. However," he did a little curtsey, mocking. "My case is strong."

Jalin looked like he was about to explode and even began to reach into his pocket. He was reaching for his _wand._

The Judge, seeing what the prosecution was about to do, banged the gavel on the table.

"Mr. Lovegood, I advise you refrain from attacking the Defense! And Mr. Hamilton, you do not mock the prosecution!"

Despite being yelled at, Alex still felt great about his little show.

"Now, does the Prosecution object to the Defense's claims?"

Silence. Jalin was radiating with anger. Alex didn't know the man could get like this at all...

He felt pleased with himself.

"I suppose, then, this concludes the trial for Julie Eveline. I hereby hand down the verdict of... not guilty."

Alex rejoiced upon hearing those words.

"However, posing as someone else in court is a criminal offence. The defendant will still be behind bars at any rate. Court adjourned."

Alexander did a sort of silly dance on the spot. He jumped up and down a few times in absolute glee.

He was sure he would lose - but his mind didn't fail him! Not today!

He didn't bother trying to hide his glee when Jalin stomped up to him. "What the hell was that?!"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Lovegood! I did my job!" Alex crossed his arms, smirking at the angry expression on the prosecution's face.

"Listen, _Hamilton,_ " Jalin spoke the name bitterly like it was poison, "This isn't over yet, you hear? I'm getting to the bottom of this!"

"Bottom of what? Hmm? The verdict has been handed. She was an imposter. Trying to save the ass of the real Julie Eveline. I wouldn't be surprised if the real one was on the run somewhere in Britain..."

Jalin stomped his foot so hard Alex was sure he felt it.

"No need to get angry at the ground, Lovegood!" Alex mocked loudly, "They're not the one who beat you!"

"Argh! You bastard!"

"Alright, no need to point out the obvious. I know I'm illegitimate, I'm not dumb."

"You- son of a-"

"Whore? Yeah, I get that a lot. Be original."

"I was going to say bitch, actually!"

Alexander's mocking smile was so wide it nearly stretched beyond his cheeks. He glanced to the angry Judge standing right behind Jalin.

"Watch your language in front of the Judge, Lovegood," Alex spoke loudly.

The colour immediately drained from Jalin's face and Alex felt like laughing.

"Mr. Lovegood, a word with me, if you will!" the Judge demanded.

Alex watched gleefully as the prosecution followed the Judge meekly to an empty hall.

Well, it was a job well done, if he did say so himself.

* * *

"Mr. Lovegood!"

"Your Honour?"

"You do NOT insult the Defense under ANY circumstances, you hear?! You do NOT, no matter how positively angry you are, result to petty insults! It is entirely unprofessional! I will be having a word with your boss."

"No, Your Honour, please-"

"I have no doubt in my mind you will be dismissed from your job."

Jalin watched in absolute horror as the Judge walked away, down a flight of stairs.

How... how could he feel so many emotions at once? Anger, fear, regret, everything... every negative emotion plagued his mind and... oh when did everything all fall apart? What happened?

He knew what happened. He supposed he just... didn't want to admit to sentiment.

* * *

 **binge watching the ace attorney anime and obsessing over it probably affected the way I went about this scene**

 **I'm going to copy paste all my notes that I made for this chapter. Y'all, I did research for a fanfic. Hardcore research. I hope you're proud of me.**

 **[NOTES FOR FIC, COPY PASTED]**

 **A jury is a sworn body of people convened to render an impartial verdict (a finding of fact on a question) officially submitted to them by a court, or to set a penalty or judgment. Modern juries tend to be found in courts to ascertain the guilt, or lack thereof, in a crime.**

 **the jury are the people who sit on the side, with notepads and shit**

 **in short/rewritten by yours truly: a jury is a group of people gathered to provide a verdict on a question submitted to them by a court, or to set penalty or judgment.**

 **noun: verdict; plural noun: verdicts**

 **a decision on an issue of fact in a civil or criminal case or an inquest.**

 **"the jury returned a verdict of not guilty" = the jury said the person in question is not guilty**

 **find out if a courtroom in the 1700s looked any different than modern ones - not super important, but if you want accuracy then this is important**

 **oh shit; "gentlemen of the jury I'm curious bear with me" Hamilton was talking to the jury I just remembered I feel smart now I FINALLY KNOW WHO THE FUCK THIS GUY IS TALKING TO**

 **the judge stands up front, obv, does anyone usually stand beside him?**

 **in harry potter when Harry went to the ministry to face court Umbridge was part of the jury, wasn't she? all those surrounding people were the jury? where were the defense attorney and the prosecutor? very important! not really I'm just curious!**

 **I've just learned more about how court works in these ten minutes than I learned in Indonesian in six years**

 **find out terms in court, what do things mean, what can and cannot the judge say, same goes for the jury - extremely important**

 **ace attorney is, indeed, ace**

 **it sure helped a lot**

 **I kinda know how Japanese trials work now**

 **which is A LOT different from American trials but if I combine my knowledge of the two I can make it seem less "phoenix wright"**

 **I was terribly wrong, this is almost exactly like a phoenix wright case**

 **fuck**

 **like, major plot-twist? millions of objections? ace attorney in a nutshell**

 **3000 WORDS!**

 **[END NOTES]**

 **oh shit, guys, I did it. I wrote it. I... I'm... I'm never fucking doing that ever again, as fun as it was.**

 **Never again.**


	20. Painting (a facade)

**I'm not sure how well this is written... it's not bad but... I'm just not sure how I feel about it. Might be a bit bland. Prepare for some sort of angst, though.**

 **this chapter is quite dialogue heavy**

 **2401 words**

* * *

When Jalin was just a teenager, around seventeen, his mother died.

Cancer, they said. In the brain. Nothing they could do.

It was just a few weeks before his eighteenth birthday that he got the news. His mother was dying.

"She won't make it to next month. I'm sorry."

"How do you know that? Huh?! How do you know that?!"

"I'm truly sorry, Mr. Lovegood, but there's no way she'll survive this."

Jalin screamed at the doctor for _half-an-hour_ before his mother grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly, begging him to stop without words. She couldn't speak anymore. That's what the doctor said. He said the tumour caused brain-damage and she couldn't speak.

In the last remaining weeks of her life, neither of them spoke to each other. How could they?

With just a week left until Jalin's birthday, things were not looking well at all. His mother had been so weak lately, and could hardly move.

However, one thing that never changed, that never truly _could_ change... she never stopped painting. Even when her dominant hand wouldn't cooperate with her, she practised with the other. And oh, she painted the most wonderful things. However, a few days before the birthday she locked herself in her room, not allowing any visitors "until she was finished".

Jalin was scared. Terrified.

Finally, the day arrived, and Jalin knocked on his mother's door, crying... "Mother, please, _please_ let me in, please..." there were so many tears he was sure he would drown in them. He felt like drowning. Whatever this horrible feeling was, drowning would surely be better.

"Mother, **_please!"_**

No sound.

When he found he wasn't strong enough to break down the door by ramming into it, he simply kicked it for five minutes. Instead of opening, he broke it.

 _Whatever._

He smashed through the door...

immediately wishing he hadn't.

There were beautiful paintings everywhere. Small ones, large ones, bright ones, dark ones.

And at the centre of it all, there lay his mother, in bed, unmoving.

 _Sleeping?!_

Panicking, Jalin grabbed her wrist and desperately searched for a pulse, _anything._

Nothing.

Upon hearing Jalin's tortured scream the doctor ran downstairs, and he found the boy lying next to his mother in bed, clinging onto her like if he let go she'd disappear. Sobbing. Screaming. The doctor had dealt with this sort of thing before, but never had anyone reacted like this... it was always a quiet cry or a tearful nod of understanding.

Though, the doctor noticed something strange. The woman was already as pale as a sheet. He stood on the other side of the bed and touched her arm - ice cold. In such warm weather, this could only mean- she'd been dead for some time now.

A day at most.

Jalin must have realised this.

The doctor wisely withdrew from the room, choosing not to look at the beautifully painted door Jalin had smashed to get inside.

* * *

The funeral went as smoothly as a funeral could.

Not many people showed up, no one really knew the Lovegoods too well. But Jalin preferred it that way. He needed his space, and a room packed with people would just cause a breakdown...

When the last remaining guests left, Jalin was left all alone at his mother's grave. He didn't move. He didn't speak. Just stared at the piles of roses.

When he went home, alone, he picked up his mother's paintbrush and painted those roses.

It was terrible. But it was a start. On that day, Jalin vowed to himself and his mother in heaven that he'd become a famous painter, and that some day people would come from miles away just to see his paintings.

He stopped attending college and hired a tutor who was supposed to make him a genius. He taught Jalin _everything._

One day, two years later, Jalin approached his tutor. He said, "I want to become an attorney."

From that point on, the tutor taught him law and law only. Taught him about the art of prosecution, what to say and what not to say.

 _"All of his efforts are wasted on you."_

The mirror was his anxiety. For some reason, his reflection spoke back to him. When he confronted the tutor about this, he was accused of being _tired_ and ordered to go to bed. Like a child. He was _nineteen_ now.

He never spoke about it again.

It became his little secret.

Nobody needed to know.

* * *

 _28/3/1791_

Jalin slumped in his office chair, staring blankly at the potted plants. Mr. Garrison had recently told him to pack his things, because "insulting a co-worker, no matter their personal relationship with you, is absolutely unacceptable".

Jalin pulled on the petal of the pansy. He watched as it slowly tore away and felt some sort of satisfaction in doing this.

Maybe he was angry. Maybe he was depressed. It didn't matter to him anymore.

He tore off another petal.

It was all Hamilton's fault. That man should've known better than to rile him up.

Another petal.

Another one. He stripped the flower of its beautiful purple facade leaving only the ugly stem and stamen.

"What'd you do that for?"

Jalin jumped at the sound of Hamilton's voice. When he looked up, the immigrant was staring him down.

"What'd you do that for?" he asked again.,

Instead of replying, jalin stood and began packing his potted plants into a dark oak box, all except the stripped bare pansy. The box had little flower designs all over it; Jalin had painted it when he got it.

"I'm leaving," he said.

"What?"

"I'm _leaving._ I've been fired."

 _"What?!_ That's bullshit!"

"Language, Hamilton. Look, the Judge told Mr. Garrison about my outburst and voila I've been fired."

"But- what about me?! I provoked you! I mocked you!" Hamilton stamped his foot on the ground so hard that he winced, "Where will you go?!"

"I can paint. Really well."

"Would the public agree?"

Jalin considered the question for a moment. "Yeah. I reckon they would." He picked up his wand that was lying vacant on his desk and wingardium leviosa-ed his belongings out the door.

"Goodbye, Hamilton."

"No."

The two stared at each other. Hamilton's expression was nearing scary. He really knew how to glare.

"No?" Jalin questioned.

"No. I'm not letting you leave for some petty shit like that. Jefferson has said much worse to me in front of Washington, he's never been fired."

"That's Washington. This is Garrison. Garrison is a lot less forgiving than a lot of people. I'm sure you're used to being forgiven, Hamilton, but here? One strike and you're out."

Jalin pushed past the slightly taller man (god, he hated that) and walked out the ebony-painted door.

* * *

Alexander stormed over to Garrison's desk. The older man did a double-take, startled by Alex's abrupt approach.

"Hamilton, what is it? I'm in the middle of something important," he said, taking off his black-framed glasses.

"You fired him?!" Alex yelled, slamming his hand on the desk, "Why the hell would you fire him?!"

"I assume you're talking about Lovegood," Garrison sighed. He took off the little driver's cap he wore and placed it on his stack of papers. Amongst the messy light-brown hair, there was a single strand of blond. You learn something new every day.

"Look, what Lovegood said was completely uncalled for. Insulting a co-worker is unacceptable."

"But I _provoked_ him! I got a warning from the Judge because I was _mocking_ him! He got mad at me because I wanted him to. It's my fault."

"I didn't know you cared so much about Lovegood that you'd be willing to admit your own faults, Hamilton. Still, he should've kept his emotions under check. I know you mocked him and provoked him however the Judge informed me that you remained relatively calm the whole time."

Alex crossed his arms. It was almost becoming his signature pose. "Sir, I request you give Lovegood another shot."

"Request denied."

"Sir!" he stamped his foot like a toddler. Garrison simply raised an eyebrow, "Sir. Give Jalin Lovegood another chance."

"Give me one reason why I should."

"W-Well- I, Alexander Hamilton, the person who was insulted by one Jalin Lovegood, ask- nay, _demand_ he be given another chance."

Garrison leaned back in his chair, and it creaked in protest.

"You want Lovegood to have another chance. You want him to work alongside you."

"Well, not nec-" Alex paused. _This was for Jalin._ "... yes. That's what I want."

The older man stood suddenly, and now Alex was just realising how tall Garrison actually was. He'd tower over a lot of people.

"I'm sorry, Hamilton. I'm afraid I don't give out second chances."

It was then that Garrison began to walk away from his desk and towards the exit door. "And why do you care so much? I don't remember you two being so close."

* * *

"Stupid- stupid- stupid!"

Alex banged his head on his desk. He had just arrived at home from work in a weird state of mind. He couldn't get one question out of his head.

 _And why do you care so much?_

"I don't _know!"_

He groaned, leaning back in his chair and placing both hands over his eyes.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid..."

The door behind him creaked open, and Alex groaned again.

"Alexander, are you alright?" Eliza asked, placing a cup of coffee down next to his papers.

"No..."

"Did something happen at work?"

"Lovegood got fired..."

"...oh! Well... I take it you wanted him to... stay?"

"I don't know." Alex sat back up straight and grabbed the coffee. He took a quick sip. "I don't know," he repeated, "I never really liked him as a person but I've just ruined my reputation in the offices because I practically _begged_ Garrison to let him stay. He asked me why I cared, Eliza, and _I don't know why I care._ Lovegood and I are like political rivals."

"I thought Jefferson was your political rival?"

"He is. They're both my political rivals."

Eliza sighed. "Unfortunately I don't know how to help you, Alexander. You say you care, but you don't know why?"

"Yes."

She bit her lip and furrowed her eyebrows, then frowned. Alex immediately placed his coffee down and faced her.

"No- no! I don't- it's not- I've never felt that way about him! I mean it as- no!"

Alex was disgusted even by the _thought_ of being with Jalin.

"My heart only belongs to you!" _Liar._

"And so it should," Eliza replied, almost completely deadpanned.

Alex looked down at the baby bump. "I could never... never cheat on you." _Liar._

"I... I know, Alexander." she gave him a quick but sweet hug, then left the room.

 _Liar._

* * *

 _30/3/1791_

Jalin was painting a squirrel when he heard a very aggressive knock on his door.

Thoroughly annoyed, having just lost his job and now having to deal with someone who was probably a salesman, he practically threw his brush into the cup of water and stomped his way to the door.

He was about to tell the person off for knocking so aggressively on the newly painted door, however was left speechless at the sight of Alexander.

"Hamilton?"

"Lovegood."

"How... how did you find my house?"

"I asked Garrison. Apparently, you two used to have lovely chats over tea time."

Jalin grumbled a swear, silently cursing Garrison for giving this non-stop machine his address. "What do you want, Hamilton?" he asked, getting ready to slam the door in the man's face.

"A chat. That's all. I feel like we could get to know each other more."

"Really."

"Honestly. Cross my heart. I don't want any deal with you."

A sigh. "Come in, then. I was busy but whatever."

"Busy?"

"Painting. I'm going to try to sell a few things so I'm stocking up."

"Oh."

Jalin stood back so he could watch Alexander's reaction to his living room. It was covered wall to wall in paintings that had been done over the years, all various sizes. They all had a similar colour scheme though. All of the rooms in his house had a colour scheme. The living-room was orange.

"Holy shit," Alexander whispered, "Holy shit. You painted all these?"

"Well, most of them." Jalin wondered over to the wall farthest away from everything. "These... these are all the ones my mother painted. She painted a lot, too. I picked up the skill from her."

"You're using past-tense. Is she...?"

"Dead?"

Alexander flinched. "Yeah."

"Yes. She died some years ago."

The immigrant examined the largest painting. "Sorry to hear it."

"It's whatever. I'm over it now."

"Over it?"

Alexander turned to face Jalin. "Over it?" he repeated, "What on Earth do you mean?"

"It was _years_ ago. I was seventeen. I'm thirty-eight now."

"I'm not over _my_ mother's death and I was _thirteen!_ And I'm just two years younger than you!"

Jalin averted his eyes. "Thirteen?"

Instead of answering the open question, Alex continued on his rant.

"You can't honestly stand there and say you're _over_ it like it was just a friendship. She was your mother! How can you jus-"

"Hamilton."

"-t say bullshit like that! You obviously loved her a lot because you've hung up her paintings! So you're clearly _not_ over it!"

 _"Hamilton."_

"And furthermore-"

Jalin whipped out his wand so fast you couldn't see the movement and aimed it confidently at the immigrant. **"Alexander Hamilton you shut your pretty little mouth or I'll blow you to pieces!"**

There was complete painful silence as the two of them stared at each other. It was deafening. Jalin was shaking, and Alexander looked like he had just shat himself.

Finally, _finally,_ after what seemed like hours of silence, it was broken.

"I've... I've never been yelled at like that before," Hamilton said. Slowly, cautiously. "I guess there's a first for everything?"

 _Stupid Hamilton with his stupid words and his stupid awkwardly adorable attempt at a subject change-_

Jalin was still shaking when he lowered his wand. Out of what? He didn't know. Anger, maybe. At his mother. At Alexander. At life.

Anger. He didn't feel angry often. Usually, he was relatively calm. He barely shouted. He supposed Alexander would have to be the one to drive that side of him out into the open.

"I think- should I just go, then?"

 _No, please stay._

"Please leave."

"Yeah. Alright. Goodbye, then."

 _Please stay._

* * *

 **jalin's mother was well-off so naturally the door would be tough to break down + jalin is a weakling**

 **sooner or later y'all are going to get a garrison chapter. you can't escape the garrison. you can never escape the garrison.**

 **did y'all (and by y'all I mean the two of you who actually read this, or the two who actually give feedback.) actually think I'd forgotten about Eliza's pregnancy? well, I didn't, and after checking the birthdate of the next kid- I've just realised I've fucked it up. john c. hamilton was born in august 1792- if eliza was pregnant with him now, in march, she would instead have him in like January or Februarybr /**

 **so I have a plan, I'll fix this. there's many things I'm willing to change but not the birthdate of one of their kids.**

 **I've said "y'all" one too many times in this end note**


	21. Law and Pancakes

**mmmmmmm okay i am very sorry this took so long but it's over 3000 words so that makes up for it, right? ^^'**  
 **aaaaaa I messed up with seasons- it's not too important it just bugs me. if you're american you might've already noticed it. i won't bother explaining it bc i'm super lazy and in a rush to get this chapter out**  
 **i had some other things i wanted to put here but i've forgotten -shrugs- oh well**

 **warning, i think there are many many typos in this tezt. i just have a feeling. but im lazy af so i won't be fixing them.**

 _ **MYSTERIOUS SERIAL KILLINGS IN LOS ANGELES**_

 _THERE HAVE been numerous reports of mysterious and impossible killings in Los Angeles. All the victims appear to be linked as they are all female and all have been killed in a similar fashion. Police are stumped as to what - not who - could have caused these deaths. A rough sketch of a scene has been provided._

 _As of the moment, only three of the seven victims have been identified, they are as listed:_  
 _Dahlia Farris_  
 _Mary Dale_  
 _and Cara Beauro._  
 _So far no clues to what happened to these girls have been revealed, but the best officers are currently on the case. Stay tuned for more information at a later date._

 _written by Christopher Farnes_

A piercing scream rang through the neighbourhood, waking up anyone within earshot.

"Mama!" the voice screeched, "Mama!"

Police officers visited the house, expecting a fight, however they only found a young man with curly red hair curled up on the ground, screaming for his mother, and a newspaper laying torn on in front of him.

"No-"

"Hey, hey, sshh-"

An officer kneeled down to comfort the red-head. "Hey. Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Shaking and crying, the red-head pointed a shivering finger at the newspaper. "My mama- she's-"

And the officer understood. "Alright. Can you tell us your name? It's okay to tell me, I'm an officer."

"Dale-" he sobbed, "Anthony Dale."

* * *

 _15/4/1791_

Alexander glared at the name for five minutes, desperately trying to just remember where he'd heard it.

Christopher Farnes.

He did know a Christopher Farnes, he must have...

Alex sighed and stuffed the newspaper under his arm, then walked tiredly over to the fireplace. He stood inside, threw the power, and woosh ended up at MACUSA.

He'd gotten used to the Floo network now.

Another woosh was heard behind him and he turned swiftly around with a start.

"Lafayette?"

Their lessons had still been continuing along with everything.

"Mon Ami! I decided I would accompany you, mon petit lion-"

Laf wouldn't drop the 'little lion' nickname after all these years.

"-I have not seen you work before. Is this okay, mon Ami?"

"Oh, sure, you can tag along. It's not very interesting though."

It really wasn't, now that Jalin had left. Until someone new signed up, Alexander had the whole office to himself.

Plus there hasn't been another case in ages.

"That is alright. Which floor do you work on?"

Alex sighed. "The fifty-fifth."

The horrified expression on Lafayette's face was worth having to walk up down fifty-and-then-some flights.

* * *

The day proceeded as normal as it could. Lafayette hung around for a little while, then, like a child, he wondered around the offices introducing himself to everyone as flamboyantly as possible.

It was amusing to watch the Marquis talking to Garrison. The older man seemed very interested in what Laf had to say, at least.

Or maybe he was just that good of an actor.

The older man. It had occurred to Alexander that he didn't actually know how old Garrison was. He looked like he might've been in his late thirties, but who knows? He might be using a cloaking spell. Or some sort of age potion.

Or maybe he just looked young.

Alexander decided to ask him while everyone was eating lunch.

"Oh. I'm fifty-six."

"What?!"

Indeed, the man did not look fifty-six in the slightest. There wasn't even a single grey hair as far as Alex could see.

"That's what most people say when they find out... yes, I'm more than half-way to a hundred. I just look really young, I always have. However, I'm not going to lie, I do use potions occasionally."

"But- you-"

"Whatever you're going to say; it's already been said. I know how young I look. Hey, you're... no-maj born, right?"

Alexander nodded in confirmation.

"That means you might not know... wizards and witches tend to outlive no-majes by years and years. It's not uncommon for us to look young at old ages. My friend who works upstairs is in his seventies and he barely looks a day over forty."

"What?!"

Garrison sighed and began to reorganize his papers. It was then that Alexander noticed the same newspaper from this morning.

"Sir..." he pointed at the article, "Do you think those murders could be magical?"

"It is, the Aurors confirmed it. I take it you looked at the picture?"

Alex shivered uncomfortably. "I did. I nearly gouged my own eyes out."

"Yeah, it's not a pretty sight. It's worse in person."

"You went to go see it?!"

"I did."

"But they're all the way in Los Angeles! That town is on the other side of the country!"

"Yes, and I can apparate."

Oh.

Alexander picked up the newspaper and read through it one more time. "Does there happen to be... anyone to defend?"

Garrison raised an eyebrow and even smirked slightly. "You're a workaholic, hm? That's understandable. I suppose it's been a while since your last case, and you did win that one..."

Alex's heartbeat quicken. Would he actually get the case?!

"I'll tell you what. There is someone that they've caught, and this person is demanding they be given a fair trial. I can't assign you to this case yet, though, I don't know how good you are yet. How about you build a good case for this person first. Bring it to me, then I'll see if you can defend him or not."

"Really?!" Build a case first?

"Really. But you'll have to leave New York for a while."

"That's- that's fine. That's more than fine!"

He would be away from his family, but it was worth it. Winning case like this could earn him a lot of money.

"But..." Alex continued, "Why did you just hand it over so quickly?"

"You're the best Attorney I've hired in years, Hamilton."

"I've only won one case."

"You've only worked one case. In this world, anyway. I did know who you were before you joined. You and Aaron Burr were a magnificent team."

Alexander considered this for a moment. "If you already knew who I was, why did you ask for papers confirming that I had the education?"

"The law requires it; and besides, you easily could've been someone else posing as you. One never knows with these things."

"How would someone pretend to be me?"

"A polyjuice potion may be difficult to make, but many people do anyway."

"What would be the motive?"

"I don't know, Hamilton, what would be the motive?"

He mulled over this for a few moments. "Perhaps... no, that wouldn't make sense... I don't think there would be one."

"Everyone has a motive." Garrison stood from his desk. "I'll pay for your carriage ride. You'll leave next Monday at 10am. Is there anyone else you'll be bringing? Your wife?"

Eliza? No... she'd want to take care of the kids. Perhaps one of the... no, he'd feel weird bringing a staff member with him. He couldn't take anyone no-maj, so Burr was out of the question. Not that he'd want to go anyway. Lafayette... no offense to him, Lafayette would probably get in the way.

There was only one remaining person, but Alex was pretty certain that person didn't want to see him anyway.

Still, it was worth a shot...

"There's one person I want to bring but I don't think he wants to see me."

Garrison raised an eyebrow. "Who is this man?"

Alexander smiled sheepishly. "Jalin Lovegood?"

* * *

"Do you have to leave, Alexander...?"

This was the fifth time Eliza had asked this since Alex had told her about his trip to LA.

"Well, I-I don't have to at all, but- you know this'll be the first case I've had since my first case. To be able to get one so big right off the bat is huge, Eliza. It'll only be for a little while..."

"Yes, I understand, but... and besides you always forget to eat! You'll get so caught up in your work..."

"Don't worry about that. I'm bringing someone with me."

"Oh, but Alexander..."

"It's okay. I'll be fine..." he grabbed her hand and held it close to his heart. "I promise."

* * *

Alexander visited Jalin's house the next day. He had written a letter in case the man wasn't home or didn't answer the door; in all honesty, he was hoping he'd have to just drop off the letter and be done with it. He was fairly certain Lovegood did not want to see him.

Unfortunately, the letter wasn't necessary. Jalin ended up answering the door, wearing some tattered clothes covered in paint. When the shorter man saw who was at his doorstep, his expression darkened and he moved to slam the door.

"Wait!" Alex cried, stopping the door with his foot. "Wait, I wanted to ask you something."

"No."

"Lovegood, for God's sake-"

"I said no!"

Alex pushed the door open forcefully; Jalin took a hasty step backwards and the door slammed into the wall. "Lovegood. I want to ask if you will accompany me to my trip to Los Angeles."

There was a beat of silence between the two men **(I almost wrote 'two lawyers' but then I remembered I fired Jalin whoops)**.

"...wha-..why me?" Jalin questioned, "And why are you even going to Los Angeles in the first place?"

"I've got a case. Well, I might have got a case. Garrison wants me to build one for the defendant before he actually hands it over to me."

"Okay. But why are you asking me to accompany you?"

Alex scratched the back of his neck. "I mean, I was thinking maybe... you could help me. With the case. It's a really big one. You know those three killings? They were in the papers...yeah, anyway, they caught a guy but he's demanding a fair trial."

"Do you know who the defendant is?"

The fact that Lovegood hadn't immediately said "no, fuck off" was a very, very good sign.

"His name is Mitchell Cerise."

"And this man is a wizard?"

"Yes. The killings were definitely committed by someone with magic, that much has been confirmed by the Aurors."

Jalin sighed. "And you want me to help you?"

"If we win I'll share my earnings with you."

"I don't want money. Look, couldn't you have chosen a different guy to help you? I know Pool would be more than willing."

Pool Hauser was another lawyer in the offices; he was an enthusiastic fellow, always wanting to lend a helping hand. He was friends with everyone; apparently he was even having small talk with Garrison.

"I don't want Hauser's help. He's a bit..."

Jalin nodded in understanding, surprisingly. "I must agree."

"Then can you come with me?"

The ex-lawyer glanced to the side, where his unfinished painting was sitting. It looked like a young girl playing with a puppy.

"When are you leaving?"

"Next week. Monday. 10am."

A sigh. "Los Angeles, right? Do you happen to know the weather conditions there?"

Yes! "I've got no idea. I'll ask Garrison."

"Right. I guess I'll... see you next week."

"Yeah. Right."

Just as Alexander turned to leave, Jalin stopped him, "Wait-"

Alex turned. "Yes?"

"I'm... sorry for yelling at you. I was just a bit... you know, I'd just been fired..."

"It's fine; I'm used to being scolded. You were right, too - you've moved on now, you're over it. That's a good thing."

Jalin gave a small half-hearted grin. "Alexander Hamilton, admitting he was wrong."

"Har har. Anyway, yes, I'll see you later, Lovegood."

"Yes. Till next time, Hamilton."

So that had gone over better than Alex expected. Way too well, almost.

* * *

"Eliza, do you happen to know any Christopher Farnes-ses?" Alex asked one night. They had just put the children to sleep.

"I've heard of him. He's a journalist I believe... didn't he write the article for the serial killings?"

"Yeah, he did. Just... I recognised his name from somewhere and I couldn't put my finger on it until now. I've just remembered I met him while you were on holiday... when I bought you that necklace he was at the stall. He was a right prick towards me but his sister reassured me he wasn't usually like that. I spoke to his brother too, who is a fan of mine."

Then Alexander remembered the promise he made to Jennifer...

"I... I promised I'd visit them for Christmas."

The sound of ruffling sheets and the movement of the mattress indicated Eliza turning onto her side to face him.

"Why would you do that?" she questioned.

Alex shrugged. "There was something about their whole family that made me not able to refuse. Jennifer, the eldest, she was just so... I don't know. Something about her. It was almost like she was subconsciously manipulating me. It was really weird."

The atmosphere got slightly tenser. "What do you mean by that?" the wife asked, suspicion evident in her voice.

"Oh, goodness, Betsey I would never-" Liar. "-plus she's almost half my age! I'm pretty certain. Just, the point is, I couldn't refuse... and oh god, they're no-maj, too."

"Well Christmas is months and months away, you have time to write if you can and tell her you can't make it."

"Yeah. That's true. I'll do that. Maybe after I'm done with this case I'll grab ahold of her," a yawn, "address."

"You sound tired. You should sleep, Alexander."

"You know, I might actually do that. G'night, Betsey."

She gave him a kiss on the cheek, "Goodnight, dear."

* * *

 _17/4/1791_

Just a day before the trip to LA would begin, Alexander visited Jalin's house with the intent to take the man out for breakfast. He felt they should both get used to spending time with one another in a non-work environment.

Jalin answered the door after about a minute, practically half-dressed.

"Hamilton? It's 7am. What are you doing here?" his voice was raspy, and his hair was in utter disarray. It wasn't even tied up in a ponytail.

"I wanted to take you out for breakfast. Maybe get some pancakes or something."

There was a beat of silence, and Alex could've sworn he saw Jalin's cheeks heat up for a moment.

"Why...?"

"Well we've only really talked about work and never actually held a you know, conversation. Small talk."

Jalin squinted. Perhaps he was still half-asleep, or the rising sun was hurting his eyes.

"Small talk. Pancakes."

"Yes."

"Are you asking me out on a date?"

"No! I just want to spend time with my colleague..."

Jalin crosses his arms, looking a bit more awake. He huffed. "Fine. Alright. I'll go get dressed, wait here."

"Okay. Uh, don't wear your wig, Lovegood. You look better without it."

A very loud sigh was heard from the end of the corridor.

* * *

Jalin didn't wear the wig. It was surprising. Alexander had expected him to wear it anyway, as a lot of people like to do, but he didn't.

"You ready to go then?" Alex asked when Jalin stepped out in his typical light-blue and green clothing.

"I suppose. You realise you're paying, right?"

"Of course, of course."

* * *

Alexander found a nice little restaurant just around the corner. It was relatively cheap but had good reviews.

"I've heard this place makes really good pancakes," Alex said as he sat down.

Jalin brushed off invisible dust on his coat then placed both his hands neatly on his lap. Fancy bastard. "I haven't eaten pancakes since I was very young. I got sick from one and I've avoided them ever since."

"How old?"

"Oh, nine?"

Alex did a double-take. "...Nine?! How old are you now again?!"

"I'm thirty-eight..."

"That's... that's... twenty-nine years! Of no pancakes!"

A waiter bounced over to take their order. Alexander quickly skimmed over the menu and ordered hastily. He wanted to continue talking to Jalin.

While the ex-lawyer ordered, he was taking a painfully long time, Alex thought about his upcoming trip. He'd be going with just Jalin. Just him and Jalin. Alone together. In Los Angeles.

God knows how long they'd be there, too. It could be just a few days. Or a week. Or a few weeks!

The waiter leaves, and they're alone again.

Small talk, small talk. "So when did you decide to become a lawyer?"

"It wasn't too soon after mother died. I'm an only child, you know? And I needed a profession. So I hired someone to teach me."

"Who took care of you?"

"Just the maids. The family Doctor sometimes helped as well."

Alex hmmed. He thought for a moment. "Did... you ever have like, a significant other looking out for you?"

Jalin sat in silence, seemingly taken aback by the question. "W-Well... no, I've never been in a relationship. Well..."

Alex raised an eyebrow.

"There was one person," he continued, "but it was never a "serious" thing. It was puppy-love, you know? Naive. All we ever did was hold hands."

"You're using gender-neutral terms."

"I am, _yes."_

The tone in Jalin's voiced screamed: _"I will cut you if you ask me about it"._

Alexander asked about it anyway. "I'm assuming that means this mystery person was male?"

The ex-lawyer glanced off to the side, annoyed. "Yes. Go ahead, then."

"Go ahead...?"

"Tell me I'm weird and disgusting."

"Why would I do that?"

"It's unnatural?"

"No, it's love."

Jalin stared back at Alex with confusion. "What?"

"It's just love. I fell in love with my best-friend, during the war. He always had my back..."

"You're not involved anymore, then? This person and you?"

"No, no, not anymore. He, uh... he died. He lead the first black-battalion and died doing it, so..."

"He lead the first bl...? You don't mean... John Laurens?"

"You knew him?"

"I'd heard of him from his father. Before the stupid Rappaport's Law was put in place I met with his father, Henry, at a party for stupidly rich people. He talked about his deceased son, John Laurens."

"He talked about his dead son at a party!?"

"Well, it wasn't too soon after, see? I believe it was 1782, October 30th... oh, boy, it was Halloween. That makes more sense now that I'm looking back at it. It was a Halloween party. I suppose it made sense to try scare guests with his dead son."

Alex scoffed. "I'm sure John appreciated that loads."

Jalin visibly rolled his eyes. It was...

endearing.

At that moment, the waiter arrived with their orders. Jalin looked uncertain for a moment, staring at the pancake like it had suddenly started singing. Then, he stabbed the fork into it and took a bite. His eyes lit up. That was also... endearing.

They both sat in silence while they ate. It wasn't an awkward silence, it was actually comfortable. A nice break from the madness of politics.

Even after they'd both finished, they were both silent, both thinking about their own issues.

Recently, Alexander had asked Lafayette to teach him how to be a Legilimens.

 _"Are you... positive you wish to learn this, mon Ami?" the Frenchman sat down in his armchair - it was actually Alexander's, but Lafayette had been sitting in it so much recently that it had been dubbed "Laf's chair"._

 _"I'm positive."_

 _"Mon Ami, you do not understand, legilimency is not mind reading, that is a naive way of putting it. Alexander..."_

 _"Laf, I really really want this. Please? It would help me in court. I could see what the defendant is thinking."_

 _The Marquis glanced to the side, thinking it through thoroughly._

 _"Okay," he said after a short while, "Okay, mon Ami, I will teach you. Keep in mind I do not know how to do it myself so I will learn it first and then I shall teach you."_

So Lafayette had been pouring over books, trying to learn the art of legilimensy simply for Alex's sake. That man was truly an incredible friend... and tutor.

He did need to leave soon, though. Adrienne was getting reportedly more distressed in her letters.

"Hey, Jalin," Alex said after a long while, "Could you tell me about Ilvermorny?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Well, tell me about the houses."

Alex knew there were houses, but didn't know anything about them, not even what they were called.

"Oh. Well... okay. Let's see. There's Horned Serpent, my house... Wampus, and Thunderbird."

"What's Horned Serpent like?"

"They represent the mind of the wizard. And they favour scholars."

"Sounds like my type of house..."

"Yeah, I think so, too. You could also be in Wampus, but... no, no, Horned Serpent suits you best."

They talked about random things... they did not talk about politics or law. They made simple conversation. And... it was nice.

 **there was probably something** i **wanted to put here but** i **have the worst memory**  
 **this chapter was all over the place, sorry lmao**


	22. Trip to LA

**Hello, children. This is not your beloved slime speaking. It is but the very thing that I would expect you to sleep on; perhaps it is not yours, but someone elses, in fact, it may be whichever thing that I am closest to you.**

 **I am your mattress, and I am not.**

 **My physical entity is your mattress, although I am much, much more.**

 **Beware of this when you retire upon me; for I fight of the evil bogeymen that attempt to harm you in your sleeping states, yet I gift you with the dreams that gracefully dance in your mind.**

 **You love me, and I love you.**

 **Just, please do not lie the wrong way when sleeping on me; the constant stentch of feet is absolutely horrid.**

 **Thanks.**

 **not this shit again -trs**

 _ **[WARNING] VIEWER DISCETION IS ADVISED AS THERE IS STRONG LANGUAGE REPEATED MULTIPLE TIMES AND ANY VICTIMS OF SEXUAL ABUSE OR GENERAL ABUSE ARE ADVISED TO SKIP THE ENDING [WARNING]**_

* * *

After that breakfast, they both bid each other farewell with a much better understanding of the other. Alexander wouldn't necessarily say they'd become friends, but it was a huge step-up from where their relationship was before. Alex even gave Jalin his address so the man could send him letters to his house, instead of the offices.

Yes The day arrived for the trip faster than you could say "butterbeer" (which was a marvellous drink and definitely something Alex planned on drinking more often). Alexander and Jalin met near the long line of carriages. Eliza and the kids were there to see Alex off.

"Be careful," she whispered.

"I will," Alex said.

Jalin tapped Alex on the shoulder then gestured towards the increasingly impatient driver.

"Goodbye, Betsey - I'll write every day."

"Goodbye Alexander..."

The lawyer and the ex-lawyer boarded the carriage and closed the doors.

Alex sighed.

"Nice family you got there," Jalin said.

"Thanks," Alex smiled, "I love them."

"I can see why. Hey, I have a question..."

"Shoot."

He lowered his voice, "Why are we riding in a carriage if we could just apparate?"

"Well, first off, I can't apparate. I tried once before and I got splinched."

"Have you tried since...?"

"No... and I don't want to. I'm fine with the Floo Network."

"Okay. Then why aren't we using that?"

"Do you pay attention to the outside world?" Alex sighed in frustration, "Los Angeles was founded in 1781. I don't think it's been connected to the Floo Network yet."

The carriage began to move, and they were off.

 **(you think I can be bothered writing this whole scene? fuck that)**

The carriage came to a slow on the side of the path. Jalin had long since fallen asleep, and Alexander was quite near to that himself, without his coffee keeping him awake.

The carriage door opened and the driver stepped in. "We'll 'ave to rest 'ere for the night, then we've got two more days until we arrive."

Alex was glad he'd eaten a large breakfast that morning, but he wasn't sure about Jalin. He didn't say anything, though. In the morning they would probably have time to grab something to eat.

Slowly, slowly, Alexander felt himself drifting off. His last thought before passing out was of Jalin, and how at peace the man looked in his sleep.

 _Alex's heartbeat quickened, it raced. He felt like he was running a marathon, but he was only standing still. Garrison was talking, almost rambling. Garrison didn't ramble... no, there was a certain tone of voice being used. It was... it was... disappointed... angry?_

 _He heard one word coming out of that man's mouth though, only one word-_

 _"Sodomy."_

 _Sodomy? Sodomy? Was he talking about John? Their relationship? How dare he talk about John that way!_

 _Sodomy._

 _No, it wasn't John. He wasn't talking about John. Garrison didn't even know who John was._

 _Who, then? Who?_

 _A rustling sound. To the left. He turned, and Jalin stood awkwardly with his hands behind his back. His hair was down. It covered his expression. He was shaking._

 _No, it couldn't be..._

 _Was Garrison talking about Jalin? But they weren't IN a relationship! Jalin himself even said that he's completely over Alex. So what the hell was going on?_

* * *

Alexander sluggardly pried his deep brown eyes open; inwardly groaning at the persistent ache in his neck as he moved to massage the pain, although halting as he felt a heavy weight on his shoulder.

Turning to look at what lay on his side, Alexanders eyes laid upon locks of hickory brown. Unimpressed by Jalin's use of his side as a pillow, Alexander sighed, taking a look at the ex-lawyer's placid features before resuming his position as when he was asleep.

Finding no euphoria in simply staring at the brunettes face as though he were a persistent stalker, Alexander turned his eyes to gaze out the carriage window; observing the large trees that stood proudly beside the gravel road, hearing the nesting birds and shrill, scream like cries of a vixen. He smelt within the warming breeze of spring a collage of flowers and sweet-scented smells.

He also felt his arm falling asleep.

Exhaling roughly as a leading horse whinnied, Alex roughly flicked Jalin on the forehead, successfully waking the brunette to an aware, although drowsy state.

"Oi, Jalin. Wake up, my arm's falling asleep." He said blandly.

Instead of engaging in a conversation with Alexander, Jalin tossed himself off of the lawyer's arm, instead leaning on the side of the wooden carriage. Alexander gave him a blank stare before internally waving it off.

It seemed, that after only a few minutes, that Jalin had simply fallen back asleep. So Alexander was left to his own thoughts once more, with only the outside world to look at and find any interest in. But he was getting bored.

He poked his head out the window, enjoying the light spring breeze for a moment, before asking the driver a question.

"When's the nearest town?" he asked loudly.

"Only 'bout five minutes away I'd say. You gon' stop for breakfast?"

"Planning on it!"

Alex moved away from the window and slumped back on the seat. To pass the time, he opened his suitcase and found his writing utensiles. Immediately, without even thinking, he began writing a letter to his dearest Betsey.

* * *

"'Ey, we've arrived!" the driver called out. Alex rolled his neck to be rid of the oncoming cramp and stretched out his legs. He grabbed a hairtie from his pocket and tied his hair into a very messy bun.

Jalin was still out cold, but the man was probably starving so Alexander shook him awake.

"You want breakfast?" Alex asked.

The ex-lawyer squinted, seemingly confused about the new hairstyle.

"Mum?"

"What?" Jalin was half-asleep, so he must've been confused. "No! I'm Hamilton. Jalin, wake up. You're probably starving, I'm starving, let's go grab food."

With a groan and an awkward stretch, Jalin sluggishly got to his feet. "Breakfast... sounds good..." he yawned.

As the men exited the dark wood carriage, Alexander dropped multiple coins into the drivers palm; the tax for taking a small detour, noting in his mind that Jalin would be providing their lunch.

Alexander found Jalin squinting at a large, scarlet wooden arch; two large trunks of what Alexander presumed used to be trees stood parallel to eachother with two smaller wooden beams between them, high above the ground horizontally.

"Curious." Alexander mused as he looked up at the arch, "A monumount for their god, perhaps?"

"No idea," admitted Jalin's lazy voice, still awakening from his slumber.

Alexander moved to walk through the middle of the arch before being tugged by the sleeve, halting him as he looked quizzically as Jalin.

"I may have no idea what this arch is," Jalin said in a hushed tone, "But if anything, walking through the middle is a no no. Apparently in some religions, walking through the middle of an arch can be considered a great disgrace, as it's where the gods would walk through."

"Well, guess what?" Alexander tugged his sleeve out of his grip, "I do not care." And proceeded to enter the small town through the middle of the arch.

Jalin stared blankly at Alexander before sighing and walking from the right side of the arch, soon enough standing beside the slightly taller man as they stared down the street leading from the monument.

"I don't believe they have proper restaurants here," Jalin observed, "Only small bars. Would you be alright with that?"

"Anywhere that doesn't feed us something that tastes like literal shit is good."

"Agreed."

The pair walked silently towards the closest bar, waving aside the flaps that read, 'Tinkerers Respite', before seating themselves on two of the five lone stools that stood before a bench, behind which a worker stood, silently greeting the men with a smile before handing them a menu.

The surrounding bar was no doubt small in size; an advertising poster hung on an unpainted wall, whilst the floor was painted a charcoal black. The seats were quite comfy, but there wasn't anything notable about the males surroundings.

Jalin eyed a spot on the menu before turning to face Alexander, in small hope to break the uncomfortable silence that has submerged the bar, "What are you thinking of?"

"Something simple," Alex admitted, "Yesterday's breakfast was enough fancy for me to last a week."

"Sure," Jalin smirked, although unknowingly of Alexander, whose green irises were glued to the menu.

After few minutes of silence, Alex poked his head over the counter, looking expectedly at the waitress behind it, "May I please have some eggs and bacon?"

"Would you like bread with that, sir?" Came the waitresses reply.

"No, thank you."

"Any drinks?"

"Just a coffee, thank you."

The waitress proceeded to disappear behind a curtain, most likely to give the order to the cook.

Mere seconds passed before she was out again.

"Ah, miss?" Called Jalin, smiling as he caught the waitresses eye, "Could I have some pancakes, please? A hot chocolate as well would be wonderful."

The waitress gave Jalin a nod before once more disappearing behind the curtain.

"Hot chocolate?" Alexander raised an eyebrow, "Shouldn't you drink something more... mature?"

"Are you descriminating against hot chocolate, Alexander?" Jalin pouted.

Alex raised his hands in surrender, "All I'm saying is that I find it difficult for someone your age to drink something as childish as hot chocolate."

Jalin stared blankly at Alexander, "Did you just call me old?"

Behind the counter, the waitress cleared her throat before setting down their ordered meals; how she managed to carry two plates and two beverages without spilling anything, the men did not know, but thanked her anyway and began to relsihingly devour their food.

Not before long, the both of them had finished their food and drink, now sitting in content for the bill to be handed to them.

"Anyway," Alex stood, waving at Jalin, "I am going to look around. Meet me at the carriage by midday and we'll continue our journey." With that, the adroit man exited the scene, leaving Jalin in the bar.

Jalin, alone, sat in silence, before quite abruptedly, he cried out, "Wait, Alexander!" He jumped of his stool before stepping outside the bar, "Who will pay the bill?!"

* * *

Alexander wandered around for about five minutes, not necessarily looking for anything. Though, admittedly, he was keeping an eye out for any sort of massage place, whatever they were called. His back was tense and every time he stretched it crackled.

Alex wondered silently if there were any wizards or witches in the small town. He wondered if there were any stores under stores like in New York.

Looking at his surroundings, he obtained an answer of negative.

There was very loud cheering coming from a nearby pub, and from the corner of his eye Alexander caught a glimpse a very... very... see-through dress.

Whores.

Of course. Even the town with a heavenly entryway must contain lovely ladies of the underworld lurking about, whether they be on the streets or in a pub such as that one.

An extremely wasted man wearing a top-hat that had bird shit on it stumbled out of the pub, giggling like he'd just heard the best joke of his life. If you asked Alex, he'd say the joke was the man's appearance.

And he wasn't talking about the bird-shit.

Alexander stepped around the man, who had fallen to the ground, and peered inside the pub for a brief moment. Beautiful women in transparent dresses danced around stupid drunk men, singing some kind of song. It was crude, yet... in its own strange way, it was arousing.

A lady spun and her dress lifted all the way up to her belly button, leaving nothing down there left to imagination. The men cheered.

"Come on now, entertain us!"

 _We feel stupid, and contagious..._ Alex mocked them silently.

While he knew he really shouldn't be standing in the doorway, just watching the events transpiring before his very eyes, Alex was a man who liked women.

"Listen, you bitch!"

Akexander immediately turned his gaze away from the dancing devils, and instead put all his attention to the lady in blue and the man in black.

"You do what I fucking say or I'll slit your damn throat, you understand me girl?!" the vile man reached to snatch the poor girl's wrist and tugged it with far too much force, so the girl ended up on the ground, shaking in fear.

The man continued to screech abuse at the girl, even hitting her a few times. No one payed attention.

Except Alexander. Alex was having none of that bullshit.

"Sir!" he yelled over the music and cheering. "Sir!"

He stomped angrily over to the man then yanked him away from the girl, who looked only a minute away from passing out.

"Can you not hear her pleads? Can you not hear her screaming?! Have mercy on the poor girl, she has done nothing wrong!"

"You don't know shit! You should've seen her in the bedroom!"

"I don't give a crap if she performed poorly! Look at the state of her! She looks ill!"

"Yeah, she will be once I-"

"No!" with a surprising amount of force Alexander pushed the man into the wall behind him.

"Oh, you bastard-!"

 _Yeah, I know. No need to point out the obvious._

The man launched himself at Alex, and they both fell to the ground with a loud thump; said man began clawing at Alexanders face, grabbing at the stray strands of hair sticking out from his lazy bun, pulling at Alexanders clothes - in such an undignified manner! Clearly, the unnamed man had taken much offense.

Although the lawyer did indeed have an upper hand - training in a war was not all that easy to forget, unsurprisingly.

Aware of the fact that Alexander could not alone use brute strength against the buff man atop him, (whistles) the lawyer proceded to deliver a swift knee to his attacker's pelvis.

Abruptly, before his offense could be carried out, the unnamed man jumped up, Alexander swiftly following in pursuit before the man wasted no time to ram his large frame into Alex's abodemen.

Winded by the swift attack, Alexander crumbled, hickory brown eyes wide as he found difficulty in breathing; his ragged breathes and raging heart loud enough he was certain his proclaimed enemy could hear it.

Acting on impulse the man unhesitantly straddled Alexander and prodeded to deliver numerous punches to the lawyer's face, ungiving of any opportunity for the founding father to regain his lost breath.

Adrenaline halting the onslaught of pain that would normally affect Alexander, the lawyer was mentally panicked, afraid that he would die were he not able to filter air through his lungs, afraid of what his death in a whore house would inflict on his legacy.

Abruptedly, as though a knight in shining armour had galloped on a magnificent white steed to rescue Alexander Hamilton, the onslaught of face fist bumps halted as the young, ill appearing girl leeched onto the attacking man's back, ceasing the brawl if only for enough time for Alexander to regain his breathe.

Jumping to his feet, the lawyer stared wide eyed as the violent man in front of him threw the frail girl across the room; her back hitting the far wall as she crumbled into a whimpering mess.

Not willing to waste his breathe on a witty insult to fire at the abusive man, Alexander launched himself towards the man, delivering a coward punch towards the back of his shaved head before kneeing him in the abodemen, swiftly elbowing the man in his spine before allowing him to crumble into a paralysied mess.

Alexander stood, looming over the body of the sinful man he had defeated before kicking him with the force of a bull, forcing a short, anguished whimper before Alexander turned his eyes away, relocating them to the still frame of the frail girl who had been ruthlessly tossed across the room.

The deafening silence of the once rowdy bar embraced Alexander with stares of mixed expressions, following and trailing after him as the lawyer strode across the room to the silent girl that lay on her side, attempting to sit upright before giving out and falling onto her side once more.

Alexander kneeled in front of her, other assisting prostitutes shying away from the girl as Alexander helped her regain an upright position on the floor.

The girl whimpered as she leaned against her back, her face covered by stray strands of hair that stuck to her sweaty features as she curled into a tight ball; hiding away from Alexander as he attempted to help her.

The quite revealing dress the girl wore seemed slightly too large for her; her messy brown locks and dark complection looked as though they had been unattended for days, perhaps even weeks. Though, as Alexander continued to examine the frail girl with kind eyes, he tensed slightly as he realised the tender age the girl was - no older than thirteen, he concluded solemnly.

"Dear girl, whatever would someone your age be doing at such a.. mature place such as this? Surely you've parents to keep you warm and fed?"

The girl hesitated, peeking stiffly through her mattered locks before reluctantly replying, "Nay, my father has fallen for a slut and is in no condintion to support me, dear sir."

"What of your mother?"

The girl visibly tensed, parting her lips as if half-heartedly gasping for air, her brown irises darkening as tears began to gather in a thin sheen across her eyes.

"My mother has passed on, sir. Two months ago." She sputtered out.

The drunken men who had once smirked with delight as the prostitutes entertained them had been forcefully pushed away from the scene, now only stunning woman garbed in transparent dresses inhabited the room, most comforting the blue dressed girl in anyway they could.

 _Two months ago.._ Alexander pondered, _April._

The sudden realisation struck like a bullet, Alexander finding himself fighting to bite back tears.

The lawyer inhaled, standing up as he looked with a blank stare at the crouching woman deriving from the underworld, set aside the child.

Fishing into his coat pocket, Alexander brushed his fingertips over a small wad of money Eliza had given him for emergencies, debating for nothing more than a second, the lawyer took the money from his pocket and dropped it into the tear stained lap of the blue clad girl in front of him, offering a smile as she craned to neck to stare, confused him.

Taking this as his moment for leaving, Alexander began to walk to the exit, only to be obstructed from reaching the open door by a seductive whisper that sent a shiver down his spine.

"Now, now.." Came the mischievous, yet arousing voice of a woman clad in transparent garmets, "Don't think we're people who like to do favours," The woman licked Alexander's ear, turning him a bright shade of red, "We like to pay people back, first thing."

Alexander didn't scream.

* * *

 **my co-writer wrote quite a few scenes in this! it's not hard to descern which ones!**


	23. Mixed (vial of) Emotions

**[IMPORATANT NOTE] the last chapter has been updated and an extension has been added!**

 **CHAPTER IS FINALLY HERE  
**

* * *

 **[SEXUAL ASSAULT TRIGGER WARNING | ASTERIKS WILL BE PLACED BEFORE AND AFTER A POSSIBLY TRIGGERING SCENE] [SEXUAL REFERENCES MAY MAKE CERTAIN PEOPLE FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE] [ALL IN ALL, IT'S A RELATIVELY MATURE CHAPTER]**

*There was no escaping the ladies of the underworld. Alexander was pulled back into the bar and shoved against the wall.

"Listen, I-"

"Hush now, sweetie! We want to _repay_ you for helping our little girl..."

"No, I-"

"Shhh!"

The woman placed a finger on his lips and Alex struggled to get away. "Come on now, hun. You don't even have to pay! What's not to love about a fr-"

Alex found his strength and shoved the _attractive_ woman away, giving him another time to get a few feet away, but alas he was caught again.

"Why won't you let us repay you-?"

 _Fuck. Why must they make me feel pity?! They were probably taught how to guilt trip! Damn good actresses, that's for sure._

"I have a wife! I-"

"She doesn't need to know!"

 _Nobody needs to kn- **no!**_

Another woman approached from the sidelines, with a possibly even more revealing dress than the girl in front of him.

Blood rushed to places it really fucking shouldn't have but Alexander ignored it, turning on his heel and smashing through the exit door. He sprinted away, doing his absolute best to not think about the girls, anything but, but his mind only fell to Maria and it was _fucking torture_ especially with his breeches growing tighter and tighter.*

 _Shit shit shit shit shit sh-_

"Alexander?"

Alex skidded to a halt, inwardly groaning about the damage that probably did to his shoes, then whipped his head around to the source of the voice.

"Jalin..." inhale, "Oh, Jalin, thank..." exhale, "thank god you're here..."

His face flushed harder than ever, and his breeches way too tight (which Alexander did his best to hide, to no avail apparently), the lawyer leaned on a shop wall and slid down to the ground. "I found a bar. It-it was a whore house," at Jalin's appalled expression, the lawyer quickly added, "I didn't do anything! I didn't want to! I just helped this girl out who was being abused and then the girls wanted to _repay_ me, and I-"

The loudest sigh that Alex had ever heard erupted from Jalin's mouth.

"You're a moron..." he murmured.

"All I did was help a girl! She was all on her own, her mother had recently died and her father fell for a prostitute. I gave her the money Eliza lent me for emergencies."

Jalin hummed. "That's awfully kind of you."

"I'm not heartless..."

"I know... look, we should get going. I'd like to have a bed to sleep in as soon as possible. Calm down and meet me at the carriage."

Jalin began to walk away, then he stopped and seemed to think for a moment. He turned around and announced, "By the way, next time, YOU are paying for lunch!"

* * *

Alexander approached Jalin near the carriage, who was talking with the driver.

"I'm ready to leave if you are," Alex said. The ex-lawyer nodded then climbed up into the carriage, sitting himself down on the burgundy cushions. Alexander followed suit.

"I trust you've gotten past the shock?" Jalin asked while seemingly rearranging stuff in his suitcase.

"Mostly. I still feel... shaken up by the whole ideal. I really shouldn't be, I mean, I've been with prostitutes before. Mostly during the war, you know? Of course, it happened less frequently after I married Eliza..."

"What about Laurens? Surely he did not appreciate being cheated on?"

"Well, I've never really considered sleeping with whores as _cheating._ Many men go to them when they miss their wives, all of that... John didn't mind. When he was super drunk he'd be over at the tavern, too."

Jalin shifted in his seat. "Only when he was drunk?"

"I think he was _only_ attracted to men. Seeing as there were no male prostitutes at any of the taverns we happened across, he'd be with the women."

He hummed. "Did you two ever... sleep together?"

Alex blinked. "Well... we shared a tent, b-but we never, uh, did any of that. Well... once. Only once. Lafayette and Mulligan were on a mission so we had the whole tent to ourselves."

"Lafayette and Mulligan? I've heard those names before. Mainly 'Lafayette'..."

Alexander ran a hand through his ponytail. "Well, it makes sense you've heard of Laf. He's a Marquis in France and is practically a celebrity over here. I'm not sure where you've heard of Mulligan seeing as you didn't fight in the revolution. He was a spy for our side. Bloody brilliant..."

Alex stared out the window at the endless fields. A few lone buildings were built in the middle, cows and sheep surrounding them. The rhythmic clip-clipping of the horses and the sound of wheels on gravel was enough to make Alex feel relaxed and, dare he say it, drowsy. It was barely midday, yet he felt like he'd been awake for two days already. Perhaps it was the running; his legs didn't go like they used to.

 _Shit, I'm getting old..._

He turned to Jalin, who was still rummaging through his suitcase, and asked if he could let down the curtains over the windows so he could take a nap. Just to get his energy back up.

The ex-lawyer merely shrugged, saying "sure, go ahead".

Alex let down the curtains on both sides of the carriage, then lay down on the burgundy cushions (which were surprisingly comfortable).

It would just be a quick, energizing nap.

* * *

Alexander has long since fallen asleep and Jalin had turned his suitcase inside out looking for his mirror. For a moment, he panicked, thinking he'd left it at his home and would have to wait until they arrived at their hotel. But then he'd also have to wait for Alexander to leave or go to sleep. It would be terrible.

So the ex-lawyer let out a huge sigh of relief when he found the mirror at the very bottom of his suitcase. He held it up to eye-level and waited.

And waited.

Waited.

And he waited.

 _"You're not even going to announce your presence? Rude,"_ a familiar voice suddenly erupted from the mirror.

Jalin sighed. "Look, mirror-me, I need help."

 _"What with, lover-boy?"_

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "That's the problem. I still like him. I still want to be with him. You remember all the stuff I forget, right? Tell me, do you remember anything, anything at all, about medication for sodomy?"

The Reflection was silent for a moment. _"I don't remember anything. I don't believe such drugs exist."_

Jalin cursed. "There has to be something! Something, anything, that could just help..."

 _"Might I recommend searching for a spell?"_

"A spell... a spell... a spell! That's it! I'm sure there's a spell somewhere that can help me!"

Jalin dived back into his suitcase, then pulled out a thick book of spells and potions for intermediate students. He'd had it since year six, and never parted with it.

"What section would I even look in?" he asked rhetorically.

 _"Try 'h' for homosexual,"_ the Reflection replied, ignoring the rhetorical-ness of the question.

"What does that mean?" Jalin stared at the mirror he placed on the seat, "Homosexual? That's not a word."

 _"It's nothing. Ignore me."_ the reflection winked at seemingly nothing.

 **(I hope you enjoyed that fourth walk break because it's the only one you're getting in a while)**

Jalin raised an eyebrow at the reflection of himself, who simply waved him off before gesturing for him to continue looking.

Opening the thick book, Jalin immediately flipped to section 'L'.

"There's stuff about love potions, other spells beginning with 'L' but nothing that I- oh!"

He pointed at the seemingly over-complicated recipe for a potion. "This."

* * *

Alexander cracked open his eyes and found himself staring at the ceiling. After a moment, he registered the searing pain in his back. After another moment, he realised he'd fallen onto the floor of the carriage.

After yet another moment, he realised with a start that there was a scrawny owl sitting on his chest, its claws clinging to his cravat. In fear of being attacked by the creature, Alexander moved his arm excruciatingly slowly towards Jalin's arm, which was hanging off the side of the seat. He must've passed out at some point... which was strange because Alex was only planning on taking a quick nap. How long had he been sleeping for?

He tugged on the ex-lawyer's arm as hard as he could and he woke up with a startled yell.

"Jalin!" Alex whisper-yelled, "Help!"

The surprisingly alert ex-lawyer stared down at Alexander and appeared to be stifling a laugh.

"This isn't funny! There's an owl on top of me. These things carry all sorts of diseases!"

Jalin actually did laugh this time. "Diseases? Nonsense! That's a delivery owl," he sighed, "I keep forgetting how new you are to all this."

"Delivery owl? Like delivery pigeons?"

"Yes. See, look, it has a letter tied around its leg."

Alexander slowly raised his arm to grab the letter. He used his other hand to carefully untie it.

The writing on the parchment was easily recognisable as the Marquis' handwriting.

"Lafayette!" he exclaimed. The owl jumped back in fright, so Alexander took this opportunity to scramble off the floor and into the seat.

Not wasting a moment, Alex almost tore the paper unfolding it.

It was all in French, but it said Laf would be leaving America and going back to his wife and children in France.

"Why was he visiting America anyway?" Jalin asked when Alex explained the letter.

"He was tutoring me. Neither Eliza nor Angelica had the time, and we didn't want to hire one, so we called Lafayette over."

"Tutoring? Like, in magic?"

"Yeah. Also teaching me about history... it was rather interesting."

"That reminds me, I've been meaning to ask you... how much magic do you know?"

"Well, let's see... I've mastered wingardium leviosa. Uh..."

He pondered for a moment.

"Well, uh..."

His face reddened. "Shit. That's all I know. He was mostly teaching me about history because that's what I kept asking about. You know, scourers and stuff. Crap..."

 _Hang on, wasn't he supposed to teach me legilimensy!? I- oh, whatever. I'll write to him later._

Jalin thought for a long hard moment. "You know... you could borrow my book for a little while." He gestured towards a tattered book sitting nearly on the seat beside him.

"Really? It's your book. It looks like you've had it for years. Are you certain you're willing to let me borrow it?"

"Sure. As long as you return it in the end, I don't mind. Just let me take a few notes first."

The ex-lawyer grabbed the book and flipped to a page near the end. He snatched a piece of parchment and a quill from his suitcase then quickly scribbled something down.

"What are the notes for?" Alex asked as Jalin handed him the book. "Thanks."

"It's nothing. Just a potion."

"Ooh, what for?"

"Nothing, Alexander," he smiled, but it didn't seem genuine. "It's really nothing."

So Alex let it be.

 **(that's sinister and you should be worried)**

* * *

 _Unicorn horn_  
 _Licorice_  
 _Alcohol_  
 _Caffeine_  
 _Anaphrodisiac (extract from cinnamon)_

 _SIDE EFFECTS_

 _Depression_  
 _Mood swings_  
 _Minor paralysis_  
 _Insomnia_

Jalin hadn't stopped staring at his note. He glared at it like it insulted his family.

The side effects were excruciatingly terrifying. But if the potion truly did what it claimed to then it'd all be worth it.

 _Reduces your dopamine and serotonin levels so your sexual or romantic desires are squashed_.

It had a warning note written in blood red ink.

 **ONLY TO BE USED ON PEOPLE WITH AN ABNORMALLY HIGH SEX DRIVE.**

He hated that note in red. He didn't have an overactive sex drive. He was just attracted to the wrong people. He hated it.

Pressing his lips in a firm line, Jalin read over the ingredients, absentmindedly wondering where he would obtain a unicorn horn _._

 _Surely there would be wizarding stores in LA,_ Jalin groaned, earning a raised eyebrow from Alexander, who had begun to flip through Jalin's spell book _, but I don't want to wait till LA, goddamnit!_

 _"_ Hey, Jalin," came the pondering voice of Alexander, "How do you pronounce this?"

The man pointed at a spell, leaning towards the ex-lawyer to allow him a better view of the page.

Jalin, torn from his mind debates peered over Alexander's shoulder to look at the spell, squinting to read the fine text from such a distance, leaning closer in an attempt to read the spell.

"Peir-tow-tum Low-co-motor." Jalin pronounced in syllables, earning a curt nod from Alexander in a form of thanks before pulling back to rest against the cushioned seat of the carriage.

As Jalin pulled away from Alexander, in an accidental moment, their ears grazed eachothers; abruptly sending a small spark between the two, causing them both to jump in their seats, clutching their ears as the stared at each other for a moment, before exchanging apologies and carrying off with their own time in which they chose to occupy with whatever came their way.

 _I desperately need that potion, soon,_ Jalin closed his eyes, forming a frown upon his features _, before I do something I will forever regret._

* * *

The cart slowed down to a halt outside what it seemed, another town. Alexander stretched out his legs only to find, to his dismay, one of them had fallen asleep.

"Mind if I lean on you?" he asked Jalin, "My leg is dead but I really want to go get some food."

"I can go get it," the ex-lawyer protested.

"No, I need to walk or my legs will leave my body. Just let me lean on you."

Jalin sighed. "Alright."

He helped Alex to his feet. "You're lighter than I imagined."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"No... no! You're just, really light."

They both stumbled out of the carriage, giving the driver his pay for the second trip.

This town was a bit less run-down, and by the looks of things even had a few restaurants. It was certainly bigger, at least, and this time there was no archway for Gods.

Alexander pushed himself off of the ex-lawyer and muttered a quick 'thank you'.

"D'you want pancakes again?" he asked.

"I think I might have something else. What do you recommend, Alexander?"

"Me? I don't know about you, Jalin, but I could go for porridge. I feel like having some good quality porridge. Look, there's an all-day-breakfast place over there. You want porridge?"

The ex-lawyer pondered for a moment. "It has been a while since I've had porridge. Alright, let's go."

The two men power-walked over to the restaurant, making sure to avoid any suspicious looking folk such as the little children selling newspapers. Alexander could tell by the way they held themselves and talked amongst each other that they were just pickpocketers. Alexander knew because he was in their position once.

Jalin pushed open the door and held it open for Alex to pass through.

"Why, thank you, sir!" Alex mocked, "Such a gentleman!" and even curtsied for added effect.

"Shut up," Jalin grumbled.

A cheery red-head waitress bounced up to them. "Do you have a booking?"

Alex shook his head. "Did we need to?"

"Not at all! Would you like me to assign you to a table?"

"Sure. Thanks."

While the red-head lead them to a table near the back, Alex nudged Jalin with his elbow. "This place is fancy. I wasn't expecting this at all."

"I've been in fancier."

"Alright, Mr. Wealthy. Let me have my moment, hm?"

"You've never been to a fancy restaurant?"

"Fanciest meal I ever had was the one with Jefferson and Madison, and that turned out to be a disaster. At least my plan was passed, though..."

"Your... plan?"

They both sat down at the table and were handed their menus. Alex spotted porridge with honey and cinnamon from the corner of his eye.

"My debt plan. My financial plan. My god, you really don't pay attention to the rest of the world, do you? Just like Garrison said. I introduced a financial plan that would assume state debts and tax the south. You know, states like Maryland, Pennsylvania, North Carolina, Virginia. They had already paid off their debts so they saw no reason why they should be taxed to pay off debt for other states like Massachusetts and South Carolina. I fought for _six months_ to get that plan passed, and I would probably still be fighting if Jefferson hadn't come up with a compromise. Capital for plan. Surely you wondered why the Capital of America had been moved down to Pennsylvania?"

"I didn't know it moved at all."

"Of course you didn't," Alex sighed.

* * *

 **I AM SO SORRY THIS CHAPTER TOOK SO LONG OML FORGIVE ME it is 100% my fault bc I had writer's block and also we were kinda inventing a potion and doing hardcore research**

 **we didn't choose those ingredients randomly**

 **I can't help but love the gag that Jalin just doesn't pay attention to stuff going on**

 **"States like Maryland, Pennsylvania, North Carolina, and Virginia, which had already paid off their debts, saw no reason why they should be taxed by the federal government to pay off the debts of other states like Massachusetts and South Carolina."**


	24. Arrival

**oh boy**

 **Ik on Jalin's list it says 'licorice' and I then proceed to spell it as 'liquorice' and that's bc jalin is American, he spells things differently bro**

* * *

The next two days weren't eventful. **(The author typed, glad she thought of a way to skip the next 48 hours without it being all weird)**

When the carriage pulled up at the final station, both Alexander and Jalin were half asleep, but they were more than overjoyed to finally be able to check into that hotel and sleep in a bed for the first time in three days.

Giving their trustful driver their silent goodbyes, they trotted off to the town (albeit it could hardly be called a town anymore. It was more like a city.)

When they arrived at the hotel, the sun just peaked over the horizon. The sky was a lovely shade of orange; it reminded Alex of his hometown in the Caribbean.

"We have a booking under surname Garrison?" Alex told the receptionist.

They flipped through a small book of names. After a bit, they closed the book and reached into a drawer under the desk. They held up a key.

"Follow me, please."

Instead of leading them upstairs, like Alexander presumed they would, the receptionist led them through a backdoor which revealed a whole flight of stairs heading downwards.

Alex caught on pretty quickly, but he didn't say anything.

They reached the bottom of the staircase where a long line of rooms labelled WR-1, WR-2, and so on. The receptionist handed Alex the key. "You're in Wizarding Room 56. Enjoy your stay."

Alexander, despite his exhaustion, hurried down the hallway until they reached room 56. He hastily unlocked the door then threw it open. There lay one double-bed, and he belly-flopped onto it. "A bed! We have a bed!"

"And only one, it seems," came the small exhausted voice of Jalin.

"What?" Alexander sat up, staring up at the ex-lawyer. He was wearing a nervous expression.

"There's only one bed. Garrison booked us a room with _only one bed,_ " Jalin said.

. . .

. . .

. . .

"I'll kill him. _I'll fucking murder him,_ I swear to God!"

The lawyer jumped off the bed and ran over to his suitcase that he dumped near the door. He pulled out his writing utensils then sat grumpily down on the floor, not bothering to support his back properly.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm writing a strongly-worded letter to my boss," Alex grumbled, "Only one bed... you'll have only one arm by the time I'm done with you."

Jalin left him to it.

* * *

About an hour later, Alexander was still writing his angry letter to Garrison. Jalin had begun to set up his things near the couch. Alexander very clearly did not want to share a bed, and neither did Jalin. So he stole one of the pillows from the bed and placed it on the couch. He took a spare blanket from the cupboard.

Jalin wanted immediately to go out to the market and grab the supplies he needed for that potion (thankfully, cauldron was not included - there was one in the kitchen) but he was about to pass out. So, he lay down on the couch, pulled the blanket over his shoulder, and did his best to sleep in such an awkward position.

When Jalin next woke up, he wasn't on the couch. It took him a moment to process the fact that he'd been moved, but when he did, he panicked. He snapped his head to the left, expecting to find Alexander there as well, but didn't. The spot was empty. In fact, it looked like no one had ever been in it. That meant...

The ex-lawyer jumped out of the bed, steadied himself because he stood up too fast, then ran over to the small couch. Sure enough, Alexander was fast asleep with that blanket pulled over his head.

So Alexander, at some point, had decided to go to bed. However, upon discovering Jalin was on the couch, he must have moved him to the bed then taken the couch for himself.

While he appreciated the sentiment, Jalin cared about Alexander far too much to let the man ruin his back by letting him sleep on the couch. Just as Alexander had done before, the ex-lawyer picked him up bridal style _oh, goodness, he's so light_ and plopped him onto the soft bed.

Now feeling quite well-rested, or rather, as well-rested as he was possible of feeling, Jalin decided now was the time to finally gather those potion ingredients.

He glanced at the list again, then stared at the side-effects.

 _Whatever this potion does to me, or my behaviour,_ he thought, _it'll sure be worth it._

* * *

 _Unicorn horn_  
 _Licorice_  
 _Alcohol_  
 _Caffeine_  
 _Anaphrodisiac (extract from cinnamon)_

 _SIDE EFFECTS_

 _Depression_  
 _Mood swings_  
 _Minor paralysis_  
 _Insomnia_

"Where the fuck am I going to find a unicorn horn?" Jalin mumbled to himself. So far he'd only gathered the liquorice and the caffeine. He wanted to get the unicorn horn before gathering the cinnamon, but he wasn't sure where to find one. In fact, he had no clue.

He knew that unicorn horns were indeed buyable, but he'd never been bothered to look up where the fuck they're located because he never thought he'd need one. He didn't have a plan before his mother died, and after that, he only wanted to be a lawyer and an artist.

He didn't even know where all the wizarding stores were. He vaguely remembered seeing a map of the city/town engraved onto their hotel wall, so he put his good memory to use and figured out there was a robe store underneath one of the restaurants. He could ask for directions from there. If his memory served him right, it was only just around the corner, and then the third one on the left.

As it turned out, he was correct. When he entered the store, he felt an immediate magical presence. Now he just needed to figure out how to get down without being caught.

It was a pretty packed restaurant, so blending in wouldn't be too difficult, and he needn't worry about noise.

A little door just behind the counter caught his attention, and as he got closer he could barely make out the two letters _W_ and _R_. Feeling accomplished, he beelined towards it. However, unfortunately, one of the female employees noticed and held out her arm so Jalin couldn't pass. "Sorry, sir. Staff only."

"You don't understand, I-"

"I can't let you pass, sir."

Jalin examined her. She had bright red hair tied up into a bun. She was taller than him (much to his dismay) but was skinny and curvaceous. Her crimson skirt barely touched the ground, and her white corset was fully laced complete with extra lace to cover her up. There was a name sewn into the corset that read, "Ivana Rayna". It was a queer name, she must be either an immigrant or had ancestors from... Bulgaria, perhaps?

"Miss Rayna, please," he said, putting on his kindest smile. He'd do anything to get damn directions, "It is crucial that I get through that door."

"Sir, it's just the storage supply."

"...yes, yes, it is- ... and that's precisely what I'm here for! I need some things from the storage room. Your boss sent me."

She looked naive and gullible. Surely, he wouldn't need to forge-

"Sorry sir, I'll need proof."

Jesus Christ, how was any wizard supposed to get their robes if the staff above wouldn't let people through?! He seriously considered just whipping out his wand and praying to God she knew what it meant.

Thankfully, that wasn't necessary. He was saved by a man wearing a powdered wig. Which reminded Jalin... he hadn't been wearing his for at least four days! To think he completely forgot about it.

"Ivana, dear," he spoke with a raspy yet sweet voice, "I'll handle this, okay?"

The man took Jalin's arm and pulled him over to the counter.

"You got your wand, buddy?" he whispered.

Jalin stumbled for a moment, "Wh-What?"

"Your wand. Do you have it?"

The man started to take out his own wand. _Ah,_ Jalin thought, _If I don't have it and I turn out to be a no-maj, he'd use 'obliviate' and it'd be like nothing ever happened._

"Yeah, yeah, hang on a moment..." Jalin reached into his left pocket and pulled out his wand, showing it briefly under the counter to the man (the man, who Jalin assumed, was the boss).

The man nodded then gestured towards the door. "You're free to enter."

"Thank you."

He opened the door and started to put on another confident (albeit fake) smile, only discovered that it was only, in fact, a storage room. It had a few brooms lined up along the wall, crates of apples and bottles of cider on the shelves. Either there was a cloaking spell he had to undo, or there was a secret way in.

He decided to rearrange some things, thinking maybe it would reveal something. It did not. He picked up one of the apples and examined the perfect redness of it. He could see his sad, sad reflection.

Reflection.

 _"I never thought I'd find myself in an apple, and yet here I am."_

Jalin sighed. "I need your help."

 _"Naturally. Try rearranging stuff, maybe the apple crates."_

"The apple crates...?"

Jalin did as the Reflection said and moved one of the crates. Sure enough, a small trapdoor.

"Ah! Thank you, mirror-me."

 _"You really need to think harder. I'm AɘbHᴙoUYᴎm your subconscious. You can't-"_

"Sorry, what did you say?"

 _"I said I'm your subconscious."_

"No, no, you said... something else. What did you-"

 _"You really need to think harder?"_

"No, no. You share my head, so why don't you know what I'm talking about?"

The Reflection shrugged. _"If we share the same head, why don't you know what I said?"_

Jalin pondered this for a moment, then shook his head. "Whatever, it's not important."

He opened the trap door and peered down below. There was a short ladder which ended at a small set of stairs.

He placed the apple back in its crate then climbed down the ladder. It creaked with every step.

The store was rather empty, but there was a young girl getting her robes for Ilvermorny fitted.

"Ah, what can I do for you, sir?"

A middle-aged blonde man with glasses approached Jalin with a wide grin. "Are you looking for some robes for your children?"

"Uh, no..." _how old do I look!?_ "Just directions. I'm trying to find the nearest potion store. Specifically, ones that might sell Unicorn horns?"

"Unicorn horns? Yeah, there's a store under the library that sells those. My daughter needed one last year."

"Where is this library? I'm not from around here, sorry."

"That's alright! It's a few streets down. You'll know it when you see it, just keep walking north."

"Okay, thank you."

Jalin turned to leave, glad that it didn't take too long to get directions. Now he'd just need to find this library and get that unicorn horn. He only hoped they hadn't run out.

* * *

The man wasn't lying when he said: "you'll know it when you see it". It was a big bold building with a giant sign that read 'PUBLIC LIBRARY' out front.

He pushed the door open and glanced around. The entrance to the potion store was almost obvious. There was probably a disillusionment charm placed on it. He power-walked over to it, trying not to bring any attention to himself, then pushed open the crimson red door. He was immediately greeted with the smell of lavender, and the store was smokey as all hell. He quickly closed the door behind him. There was no one at the counter, but he heard shuffling from the back room. He spotted a clapper-bell sitting on top of a pile of potion books. He picked it up and shook it, the sound echoing in the... actually rather empty room.

It was quite dark, the only light source being a single candle in every corner. The walls were painted a deep crimson just like the door to get in, and the floor was made of dark oak.

A young man with curly black hair popped out from the back room and leapt over to the counter. "How may I help you?"

"Uh," Jalin started, still recovering from the sudden entrance of the man, "Well, I was looking to buy a unicorn horn. For a potion, obviously. Do you have any?"

"You're in luck, we have one left. Did you want the whole thing or just a piece of it?"

The book never specified how much he needed, so he supposed it didn't matter.

"The whole thing is fine, thanks."

The curly-haired man disappeared into the back room again, then two minutes later emerged with a gorgeous pure-white unicorn horn. "That'll be three pounds."

Jalin blinked. "Pounds?"

The man gave him a confused expression, but that then morphed into realisation, and he laughed. "Sorry! I'm not used to the new system yet. Five dragots, please."

The ex-lawyer forced a small smile, handing over the coins. He took the horn from the man's hand.

"Anytime you need anything, don't hesitate to visit. Here," he handed Julian a small piece of parchment with his address written on it, along with his name, Julian McDonald, "In case you want to preorder."

Julian McDonald. Where had he heard that name before?

It took him a second. A few, even.

And then it clicked.

 _Julian shuffled through his papers, skimming over the victim's relatives. There was her brother, Samuel Duke, their parents, grandparents, aunts uncles and their cousin, Julian McDonald._

He was the cousin with Samuel that night of the murder.

He failed to find that girl guilty, failed to find justice for those two. Not only was this man's cousin murdered, but his best friend, too. Samantha and Xavier.

He faintly heard someone in the background asking if he was okay. All he could think about was that damned case that got him fired. And now this poor man...

"I'm... I'm so sorry..." he heard himself say.

"What?"

Finally, Jalin snapped out of his trance to see Julian staring at him with a worried expression, "Are you okay? Do you need a drink?"

The ex-lawyer took a step backwards. "I'm so sorry. Oh god, I'm so sorry... your cousin, your friend... and I failed to find justice."

The atmosphere instantly became dramatically tenser. "Are... were you the Prosecutor for the Eveline Case?"

The Eveline Case. Sounded sinister.

Without another word, Jalin turned and left, stuffing the unicorn horn in his pocket.

* * *

 **sorry this took so long, truly**  
 **writer's block is a curse**

 _ **review reply to WizardingWhovian: he didn't look up sodomy because... the author didn't think of that uwu**_


	25. Sickness

Jalin waited until Alexander was passed out on the couch to start making the potion. He set up the cauldron in the kitchen and (somehow) extracted the anaphrodisiac from the cinnamon. He also stole back his book temporarily so he could read the instructions.

When he was certain Alex was in deep sleep, Jalin got to work.

* * *

It must've been 3 am, or 4 am, (or maybe even 5 am) when the potion was finally finished. Jalin was about to collapse from exhaustion, but the thrill of _finally having that damn potion_ kept him awake. He used a simple spell to clean up the cauldron and even ate the remaining liquorice, which gave him the temporary sugar boost he needed. When he'd finally packed everything up, he lined up the bottles full of crimson liquid on the counter.

It was dead quiet, and there was only a single candle lighting the room. With shaking hands (from fear or from anticipation, he couldn't tell) Jalin picked up the first vial and popped the lid open. The book said to only take a sip.

Trembling, he lifted the vial to his lips, and let the smallest amount fall into his mouth. He swallowed it, even though his throat felt _so tight..._

There was a short moment where he felt like he couldn't breathe, his throat was closing up and the potion pulsed through his veins giving him a temporary sugar high, his brain ran at the speed of light and his vision swirled and lights danced before his eyes. Unable to stand up straight but determined, Jalin closed the lid and gathered the vials - he found a cupboard that he could put a charm on to lock it. Now feeling like he was about to faint, he pushed all bottles to the back of the cupboard and with shaking hands cast _Colloportus._ With the last of his strength and now feeling a numbing sensation in his lower torso, he stumbled over to the bed and passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

* * *

Gravity weighed him down. The covers over him felt hot. His legs were numb and his abdomen was, too. He couldn't move, was struggling to breathe. He opened his eyes slightly, even though they felt so heavy...

"...okay, man? You look really distant. Are you sick?"

He felt sick. Feverish. Nauseous. His throat was closing up, it felt _so tight..._

With all the strength he could muster, Jalin moved his head slightly so he could look up at Alexander without straining his eyes.

"Can you hear me?"

Barely.

"You better not be sick. We're supposed to go look at the crime scene today."

 _Right, yes... there's the... murder. Murders. Plural._

His thoughts were disorganised. Messy. _What the fuck is happening?_

"If you're sick I can go by myself. Take notes. Do you want me to do that? Or do you want me to stay?"

He wanted to say "no, I can come" but he couldn't move. _He couldn't fucking move._ He used all his remaining strength to utter a simple word, "stay". Oh god, his voice sounded so hoarse.

"Okay. I can do that. Are you hot?" Alex felt Jalin's forehead, "Okay, I'll go get a wet rag. A bucket too. Do you think you can eat?"

 _I don't know._

"Probably not. I'll get you some water and toast though, just in case. You've probably got a fever. I understand. Fevers are hellish."

 _I don't think... this is a fever._

Alexander left to go grab a rag and a bucket, leaving Jalin to his thoughts. His jumbled up, out of order thoughts. _Confusion_ was not listed on the list of side effects.

He closed his eyes, trying his best to just go back to sleep, but even though he felt exhausted, the sleep just wouldn't come. Something wasn't right, something was _wrong._ This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. He must have messed up the potion, or something. Maybe he needed to throw the whole unicorn horn in instead of some of it. Maybe he stirred it wrong. Maybe he measured it all wrong.

Alex returned holding a metal bucket and a brown soaking wet rag. He put the bucket down, pushed Jalin onto his back (the sudden movement made him feel woozy, but he couldn't exactly say anything about it) then placed the rag on his forehead. "Okay, I'm going to go write, is that okay? Will you be alright?"

With the wet cloth, he actually felt a bit better. He managed a very small nod.

"Okay. If you need me, I won't be far. I'm just on the couch."

Jalin started to feel a bit better after about an hour. He found he could move his feet and his hands. His arms were gradually coming back to him and it no longer hurt to keep his eyes open. After another hour, he finally fell asleep to the sound of Alexander's quill scratching on the parchment.

When he woke up, it was after midday. Jalin realised with a start that he felt tremendously better. By no means did he feel like he was in perfect condition, but he could move, and he could look around without feeling sick.

He lay there for a few minutes, debating whether he should stay in bed or not. Jalin decided after ten minutes that he would _try_ walking around. If he couldn't, he'd try get more sleep.

He reached out his right leg and poked it out of the covers then he moved his left leg into the same position. With his left arm, he pushed himself up so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. So far so good.

He clutched the corner of the bedside table and used it to push himself off the bed so he was standing. He did get a sudden wave of nausea but it subsided after about 30 seconds.

 _Next step: walking._

Using the wall as a grip, he turned and took one step. His knees were wobbling but they weren't about to give out. He took another step. Then he let go of the wall and took another step.

Jalin considered this a success. He began to walk slowly towards the couch, where Alexander was unsurprisingly still writing like he was running out of time. Sometimes Jalin wondered if he was.

"Did you still want to go look at the crime scene?" Jalin asked. His voice was still hoarse.

Alex jumped. He turned around the face the ex-lawyer, "You're awake!" he exclaimed.

"I am."

"How are you feeling?"

"Better."

"That's good. That's great."

"So did you still want to go?"

"To the crime scene?"

Jalin nodded.

Alexander seemed to ponder the question for a moment. He stared out the window.

"Well... I would like to but you still look unwell and I don't want to leave you here and you don't look nearly well enough to come with me and-"

"It's a yes or no question. I can come with you, Alexander... I assure you I feel quite alright."

Alex sighed. "Okay. Okay. You can come with me, I suppose. If you ever want to leave tell me. I trust you've seen the newspaper clippings?"

 _Shit._ "No, I haven't..."

Alex sighed again. "You're in for a shock then. Try not to faint when you see the scene. I'm not joking when I say that. If you feel like you're going to pass or vomit or something tell me so we can come back here."

Alexander was being so caring, however, Jalin wasn't getting any butterflies in his stomach. There was no feeling in his chest. He didn't feel the blood rushing to his face (and other places) and his heart wasn't beating any faster. In fact, it felt rather slow.

The potion worked.

 _It fucking worked._ It did what it was supposed to. Jalin hadn't mixed it wrong at all, what he experienced that morning were the fucking side-effects. _Minor paralysis my ass. I couldn't move at all!_

"Okay," Jalin agreed, "Should we get lunch afterwards then?"

"Probably a good idea."

* * *

Alexander really _wasn't_ joking. As soon as they began to approach the scene (which was in a back alley) there was an immediate burnt corpse stench hanging in the air. Jalin scrunched up his nose.

There was a sheet covering the body, but it didn't hide the scorch marks on the surrounding pavement. Alex stepped forward to presumably get a proper look at the body but a tall bald officer put out an arm to stop him. "Do you have the right to be here, kid?"

"Kid?" Alex scoffed, "I'm in my thirties! And yes, I do. I'm an attorney."

Jalin stepped forward as well, "I'm with him..."

"Prosecutor?" the officer questioned.

"Defense," Alexander replied.

The officer sighed. "Well if you need any help I'll be over there," he gestured to a pile of papers on the ground just five feet away. "Be quick, alright? I don't even think Defenses are allowed to investigate the scene."

Alex looked at Jalin, "Is that true? What about Prosecutors?"

"We- well, Prosecutors are allowed to if they so desire. But Defenses aren't supposed to."

"That's stupid..."

Alexander bent down to pull off the sheet covering the body. Jalin decided to stand back a bit.

 _Alexander really wasn't joking._

 _Nothing_ could have prepared Jalin for what he saw. He'd seen some nasty shit but _never in his life_ had he seen something like _that._ He couldn't even _begin_ to describe it.

After about two seconds, Alex threw the sheet back over the corpse, looking as pale as cauliflower. "Ok-ay," he croaked, "Why don't we just look for other evidence. We won't find anything on _that."_

Jalin nodded in agreement, feeling light-headed. "Try find a wallet, that could have a name sewn or written inside. Try to find some names in general. They're very important. Could be potential witnesses that you can question before the trial so you know what the Prosecutor will say."

"You can do that? The law firm I worked at before didn't let Defenses question the witnesses before the fact."

"Yeah, well, we- _they_ do stuff differently," Jalin said with a salty undertone. He didn't notice until after the fact that he'd said it that way at all.

"Obviously."

Alexander stepped away from the body and began to walk around, paying close attention to the ground while also running his fingers along the walls, presumably searching for any sort of liquid or other substances. Jalin started to do the same, only further into the alleyway. He walked around in circles for five minutes before he found something that looked like a wallet poking out from under a stack of barrels. He bent down to pick it up then held it up to show Alex.

"Alexander! I found a wallet."

The lawyer walked over to Jalin, holding something of his own. "These identification papers might belong to it."

"You found identification papers?"

"They're a bit wet, but yes."

"What does it say?"

"Well the ink is smudged but I can see the last name quite clearly. It says..."

Alex suddenly went pale.

"Jefferson."

* * *

Thomas was _not in the mood, goddamnit, Mary._ He just wanted to rest and wait for the damned migraine to disappear. But his daughter simply wouldn't stop bothering him.

"Sally!" he hollered, his own voice making his head twinge.

The slave appeared at the door in ten seconds. "Yes, sir?"

"Take Mary outside, will you?"

"Of course, sir. Mary, come along. Your father is trying to rest."

The girl _finally left,_ and Thomas was able to rest his head. His hair had been tied up so he wasn't lying on it and irritating his skin, but it being pulled back like that hurt his scalp. He appreciated the sentiment, Sally, but no thanks. He ended up letting it down. Thomas could never understand how Lafayette dealt with it all the time.

He heard the door open again.

"Mary..."

"Sir?"

Oh. Sally had returned.

"Sally, what do you want?"

"I was wondering if you needed anything. A drink of water, perhaps?"

Thomas rolled over in his bed and looked up at the girl. "I'm afraid a glass of water won't help me."

"Why is that, sir?"

He gestured towards the bed, "Sit."

She sat.

"I saw something, Sally."

"What did you see, sir?"

He hesitated for a moment. _She's just a little girl._ But she was also a slave.

"I witnessed a murder."

There was a moment of silence between the two of them.

"Was this while you were in Los Angeles, sir?"

"Yes. I was walking by an alleyway and I heard fighting. I walked over to go investigate - curiosity killed the cat - and suddenly the shorter of the two men there pulled his wand on me, and I think he was about to use the killing curse. But he changed his mind. He turned with such swift movement and uttered _some_ sort of curse, and..."

He couldn't go on. Whatever happened to that man was unexplainable. It hurt, it physically hurt to think about.

"Sir?"

Thomas shook his head and covered his eyes with his hands. "I'd rather not continue."

"Of course, sir." The dark skinned woman dipped her head.

"However," Thomas gave a small smirk, "You'll help me relieve such tradgety, would you not?"

The woman hesitated, her dark eyes pointed towards the floor, "If that is what you wish, sir."

Thomas took her hand, leading her away from the room and into his chambers.

* * *

Not more than at least an hour later, Sally exited Thomas' room, if you could call the overly decorated room such a simplistic word.

For a few minutes, Thomas sat on a red, velvet like textured seat; the stained sheets that had once been tucked nicely on his bed, clean, had been ripped of the mattress and taken away with Sally when she had left.

The only piece of clothing the man wore was a plain, although crinkled shirt. Sighing, the man stood, unfolding a pair of black pants and slipping them on with ease unexpected of someone his status - although he was rich, Thomas was not a man of laziness.

As he left the room, Thomas picked up his pink tainted coat, slipping his arms through the sleeves as he walked past slaves cleaning the household.

A maid of some sorts rushed towards Thomas, diverting her dark eyes away from his own before speaking, "What do you need, sir?"

"A carriage," the man curtly replied, turning his eyes to look at the large hills and faint silhouettes of town that lay out in front of him, "I'll be riding to Port Conway."

"Of course," the woman scurried off as Thomas made a hand gesture of dismissal, running as swiftly as she could to the stables, where carriages, horses and the stable boy who managed said horses were.

Within perhaps half an hour, barely bearing the aching pain in his legs, Thomas was about to retire back inside before being met with the sight of a black carriage, lead by magnificent horses controlled by a large man who hunched over the reins.

Thomas waited for a slave to open the carriage door for him; stepping up the large distance between the ground and said carriage, Thomas entered, seating himself inside and closing the door before knocking his knuckles against its side, signalling the driver.

With an abrupt although not unsettling jolt, the carriage rolled forward, beginning its' journey which would no doubt make Thomas loose his mind from the wait, _the things I do for my friends_ , he smirked.

* * *

After an enternity of rolling hills and the stuffy interior of the carriage, it had arrived at the wanted destination.

Thomas independently stepped outside the vehicle and waved at the driver, another signal telling him to return within an hour.

As the carriage set off to drag itself off the property, Thomas scaled the small stairs that led to the front of his companion's home, walking confidently towards the front door as he raised his knuckles to tap the large door.

In response a butler opened the large doors, greeting the familiar face of Thomas that he had seen often when he came to visit James Madison.

Without a word, the man smiled and lead the pink draped man to James' chambers, as Thomas liked to call them, oh so fancily.

Abruptly, Thomas barged in through the doors, dancing in an almost feminine way as he made his way over to his companion.

Thrusting his right arm into the air and left around around his torso, right leg pointed towards his friend, he smirked, "Olé!"

In response to his friend's actions, Madison gave him a blank stare, eyes diverting to a spilled ink bottle that lay on his desk, slowly staining whatever form of writing he had been constructing.

"Thomas," he greeted, lips pressed in a firm line with eyes, unimpressed.

The afro bearing man dropped his pose, raising an eyebrow although a smirk still evident on his face, "Awe, James, I though you would be a tad more excited to see me."

"You made me spill a bottle of ink," the man shot back, a smile playing on his lips.

"If that's what you're worried about, no big deal!" Thomas waved off, "I'll give you another when I come around next time!"

"You better." James narrowed his eyes, pouting in a childish manner before erupting into a loud laughter accompanied by Thomas.

The pink clad man peered at the desk, now ink stained and most likely difficult to clean, "Oh?" Thomas' dark irises caught sight of the now black and soggy piece of parchment James had been scribbling on, "Oh no!" he cried, pressing the back of his hand against Madison's forehead, "James, I think you're catching a case of Hamilton-itus! There'd be no other reason why you'd get such a large quill!" He exaggerated, pointing at an, indeed, large quill that now too, was stained with ink.

James snorted, tugging on a bell near his desk as he lead Thomas to a pair of seats, gesturing for him to sit as the same butler who let the man in appeared at the door, asking for gained enterance before asking what James had needed of him.

"Get someone to clean the desk." James pointed at said ink stained desk, "Also, some tea as well. Thomas must be thirsty after his journey." James gave Thomas a small smile, "Is Earl Grey fine, Thomas?"

"Of course," he replied, a smirk still planted on his features.

James nodded at his butler who proceeded to remove the parchment, quill and empty ink bottle from the table before likely leaving to dispose of them, returning with tea, Thomas hoped. He was indeed quite thirsty.

"Well, Thomas? I haven't seen you since you resigned from your post as Secretary of State!" _But you have._ "How are things with you? Why did you resign in the first place? Could have left me with something to work with, at least!"

Thomas laughed. "Things have been going... okay I suppose. Unfortunately, I can't disclose as to why I resigned from Secretary of State," the man winked, "secret stuff, ya'know? Ah, and apologies, I didn't realise I left you so short handed."

"The apology is appreciated," James sighed, leaning back in his chair, "Your job is harder than I thought. The new Secretary of Treasury's a great debater as well, not as amazing as Hamilton, though." James peered at the ceiling for a moment before facing Thomas, "Do you know what happened to him?"

Thomas thought of when he saw Alexander at MUCASA, sneering at such a memory, he replied, "No, I don't. It isn't like him to suddenly leave like that, though." Thomas placed a pensive facade over his features, "He had such a good relationship with Washington as well."

"Too bad." James shrugged, "He was good at what he did, you ought to admit that."

"I suppose."

"Awe, you a sore loser, Thomas?" Madison teased, smirking at his friend.

"Not at all." Thomas replied coldy, diverting his eyes from his friend and pouting.

"Sure, Thomas, sure."

Silence enveloped the pair for a few uncounted minutes; disrupted only when a tap of the door disrupted it.

"Come in," Madison called boredly as he stared plainly at a painting.

Thomas expected the butler from earlier to enter, carrying in their tea. However, he wasn't so lucky as he watched as a pair of male slaves walk in, silently lifting up the ink stained desk before soundlessly exiting the room, as if they were never there.

Madison blinked, staring at the closed door.

Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas' dark irises caught a glimpse of a grandfather clock, the same one that he had seen a week before, and the week before that.

Peering at the clockwork, Thomas caught sight of the time, abruptly, the man jolted up, swiftly unsheathing his wand from the sleeve of his coat.

Madison barely let out an audible cry of surprise before he was cut off by Thomas' quiet voice, his wand pointed at the man.

"Obliviate."

Madison's eyes almost immediately rolled back into his head as a flash of blue light poured through the room, gone as soon as it came.

Thomas bit his lip, grateful for the time he had been able to spend with his friend, if only a small amount.

"I am truly sorry, old friend," he spoke softly, although he acknowledged James couldn't hear him, a mild form of hope told him he would try, at least.

The man wished for more time to be given to him; he wished he were able to talk to James more.

It was incredibly lonely in the wizarding world. Friends: none. Practically.

Thomas sighed, exiting the room as he soundlessly closed the door, walking, head hung low as he stuffed his hands in its coat pockets, hunching over. Such posture would have been punished had his parents seen it.

He smiled.

Bitterly.

The graceful taps of well trained feet entered Thomas' ears, the pink clad man raised his blank eyes to see the unnamed butler pass by him.

It almost seemed as if time slowed. Thomas peered through he corner of his eyes to the passing man, eyes narrowing before he turned them forward, walking unshakeably as he continued on his way out.

 _I'll visit you soon, my friend._


	26. Witchcraft and Wizardry

"Jefferson?" Jalin questioned, "You mean Thomas Jefferson, Secretary of State?"

" _Former_ Secretary of State, and- what, you've never heard of _me_ but you've heard of _Jefferson!?_ I'm offended!"

Jalin shrugged. "I only know him because of what he did at MACUSA, with the dementors."

Alex visibly shivered. It must've been a difficult memory for him. "Even I have to admit that was pretty cool. But I still hate him."

Alexander pushed open their hotel room door and dumped the wallet and identification papers on the kitchen bench. "If that man turns out to be a witness I'll kill him. I'd rather he be the murder than have to listen to his pretentious ass give a testimony."

"You should write him a letter, though. Ask him if he is a witness."

"Nuh-uh. I'm not doing that. If you want to you can, but I'm not."

"I'm not the lawyer here," _anymore,_ "you have to write to him."

"You're my co-lawyer, so I'm asking you to do it."

"Co-lawyers aren't even a thing..."

"They are now."

Jalin sighed. "Fine. What's his address, do you know?"

"He lives in Monticello. Every postman in their right mind knows where that is, so don't bother with the specific address."

The ex-lawyer grabbed a bit of parchment from the kitchen cupboards and borrowed a quill from Alexander's set. He sat down on the couch, cursing the fact that there wasn't a desk in their hotel room, and began to write.

 _Mr. Jefferson_

 _I am writing to you instead of Alexander Hamilton because he, apparently, detests you._

 _Alexander is the Defense Attorney in an upcoming murder trial (technically speaking, he isn't yet, but will be soon) and we have reasons to believe that you are a key witness. We have in possession your identification papers and (we assume) your wallet that you must've dropped at the scene. Please do send us a response, our address (we are staying in a hotel) is written on the back of this letter._

 _Your most humble and obedient servant,_

 _Jalin Lovegood_

He delivered the letter to the lady upstairs and asked her to deliver it to Thomas Jefferson via owl. Who needed postmen?

* * *

It was getting close to ten pm. Alexander was pouring over legal documents that had just arrived via owl that evening. Jalin was beginning to feel drowsy but he didn't want to sleep yet.

He couldn't sleep yet. He still needed to decide if he was going to take that potion again.

 _Will it affect me the same way it did this morning?_

 _Will it be worse?_

 _Will it be better?_

 _Will I get anything at all?_

There was no telling. On one hand, he _needed_ the potion to make sure he didn't do something stupid. But on the other hand, if the damn thing affected him that badly then he didn't really think it was worth it.

He sighed.

He came to a decision.

 _I'll take the potion,_ he thought, _if it affects me like it did this morning, then I'll stop. If it doesn't or is better than it was, then I'll continue to take it._

When he was sure Alexander wasn't looking, he unlocked the cupboard and took out one of the vials. With newfound courage, he let five drops fall onto his tongue.

* * *

"A letter arrived for you this morning, sir," Sally announced while placing the breakfast tray on Thomas' lap. His migraine had come back after a strange dream he had.

"By what?"

"Owl, sir."

"Read it to me."

"Certainly, sir," she cleared her throat, holding the letter up to her eyes,

 _"Mr. Jefferson_

 _I am writing to you instead of Alexander Hamilton because he, apparently, detests you._

 _Alexander is the Defense Attorney in an upcoming murder trial (technically speaking, he isn't yet, but will be soon) and we have reasons to believe that you are a key witness. We have in possession your identification papers and (we assume) your wallet that you must've dropped at the scene. Please do send us a response, our address (we are staying in a hotel) is written on the back of this letter._

 _Your most humble and obedient servant,_

 _Jalin Lovegood"_

When she finished, she looked up at Thomas with a nonchalant expression.

Thomas furrowed his eyebrows. _Jalin Lovegood..._ he'd heard that name once before.

What's more, this man and _Hamilton_ had his identification _and_ his wallet. He'd be needing to go back to Los Angeles, because he didn't trust _Hamilton_ of all people with his stuff.

"What do you plan to do, sir?" Sally asked.

"I don't know quite yet. Well, I know I'm going to go pick up my things, but I'm not certain I'll testify in court."

"Do you want me to prepare a carriage for you sir or will you be apparating? Or, perhaps, the Floo Network?"

"I can apparate. Tell my children I'm going out. If I'm gone for more than a day then you will take care of them as a mother would. You understand, girl?"

"Yes, of course, sir."

"I shouldn't be too long, though. And when I return..."

There was a short period of silence. Sally's breath hitched. "Of... of course, sir."

* * *

Alexander was holding a wet cloth to Jalin's forehead when a loud _POP_ broke the silence. He jumped, almost dropping the cloth onto the pillow. "What the-"

"Hamilton, you have my things?"

 _Jefferson!?_

The lawyer turned around to stare, baffled, at the tall man with an afro. "Jefferson! How the fuck did you-?"

"I apparated. Now, may I have my identification and my wallet? Then I'll be on my way."

"No, no, no, hang on a moment. We need to talk about the murder. We need to know if you're a witness if you're going to testify if-"

"I am a witness, Hamilton, and no, I will not testify."

"Wh- why the hell not?"

Jefferson leaned on his cane. _Pretentious._ "Because I don't want to. Is that a good enough reason for you, darlin'?"

" _No,_ it's not. At least tell _us_ what you saw. We need to know. I won't get the job if I don't build a good case."

"Do I look like I care? I've had a rough couple of days, honey. Just give me my stuff."

"Get them yourself, asshole," Alex grumbled, placing the cloth back on Jalin's forehead.

Jefferson sighed and took out his wand, then lazily uttered the 'accio' spell so his wallet, and then his papers, came flying to him. Alexander made a mental note to use that spell more often.

"Right. I'll be off then," the Virginian turned on his heel and Alex watched solemnly as his witness left the room.

There was a moment of silence, a very sad silence, then suddenly Jefferson burst in through the door. "The sense of failure radiates off of you, Hamilton. Do you, _you_ , really want ME to be your witness?"

Alexander, this time, had actually dropped the cloth and it landed on the floor. "Jesus Christ stop scaring the shit out of me- and- yes, god, yes please be the witness. And if you won't testify in court then at least tell me what happened. I need to know. I'll put aside my hatred for you momentarily for this."

Jefferson stared out the window that looked over an illusion of the Los Angeles streets. "I'll testify in court, and I'll tell you what I saw. But Hamilton-" he turned to glare at Alex, "I am doing this for the sake of finding justice. What I saw has permanently damaged my mind. I am not doing this for your stupid job. I want the murderer to be found."

Alexander nodded in understanding. He really did understand, of course. His mind plagued by the war; the screams, the bloodshed haunted him in both his dreams and in his waking hours. Every loud noise sent shivers down his spine and caused his hand to tremble.

"The trial is in a week," Alex said, "Find a place to stay, and then, write down everything you saw."

* * *

Apparently Jalin had dosed off, because when he next opened his eyes the LA illusion showed it was early evening, the sun barely peeking over the buildings. There was a cool cloth on his head and the sound of Alexander's quill scratching at parchment was the only thing that filled the silence.

"A...Alexand-...?"

Now there was a sound of rapid footsteps and suddenly Alexander was peering down at Jalin. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"

 _Like I've been kicked in the chest by a horse._ "Not... not good..."

"That's okay. Do you need anything? Water?"

Jalin shook his head, "Mm tired."

"Sleep, then. Jefferson paid a visited earlier but I'll tell you about it later."

"Jeffer...?"

 _Yes, that's right._ Jefferson was a suspected witness. Jalin had just momentarily... forgotten. Perhaps he was in a daze.

He wasn't feeling nearly as bad as he did the first time, so maybe his body was already getting used to the side effects. Maybe eventually he wouldn't have any side effects at all, if he just kept taking the potion...

A sense of overwhelming fatigue overcame him, and he closed his eyes. But he couldn't will himself to fall asleep.

He found he could move quite easily, _so,_ he thought, _maybe I should get something to eat from the restaurant down the hall._

Jalin and Alexander had only very recently discovered that there was a wizarding restaurant just at the end of the wizarding hotel hallway. It was usually empty save a few frequent customers, which included two identical twin witches who rendered themselves drunk every night and an honestly-kind-of-suspicious man with a tabby cat.

The reason Jalin thought he was suspicious was because every time either he or Alexander entered the room he stared at them until they left. Alexander had never noticed because Jalin never pointed it out. But it was getting on his nerves.

Even though the ex-lawyer was feeling positively exhausted and kind of grumpy, he slid out of the bed and shakily pulled on his favourite blue overcoat. Alexander once asked why Jalin wore so much blue, so the ex-lawyer snarkily replied, "Why do you wear so much green?" After that, Alexander stopped donning his honestly hideous green overcoat and instead resorted to wearing a vest over his shirt. He still wore breeches, though; Jalin personally preferred trousers.

The ex-lawyer didn't bother putting on his cravat. No one in the restaurant was ever properly dressed, never formal. It was a small cheap place, but the food was surprisingly good. Jalin suspected there might've been house-elves behind it all.

"I'm going to the restaurant down the hall," Jalin announced. Alexander stood up from the couch suddenly and dramatically proclaimed he'd be joining. _Always so overdramatic._

The two men hobbled down the narrow hall and pushed open the crimson red door sitting at the end. Alexander entered first and Jalin soon after. The defense attorney immediately strutted towards the counter and began to order their food. Alex already knew what they'd both be having; pancakes. It had turned into their thing now.

"Jalin!" Alex called, "Do you want maple syrup?!"

The ex-lawyer gave Alexander a thumbs-up. _Yes, maple syrup sounds great._

Jalin sat down at a table just was only a few to the left of the suspicious man with the cat. Sure enough, he was staring - almost glaring - at Alexander, and sometimes his gaze shifted to Jalin when he thought he wasn't looking.

When Alex sat down at the table Jalin considered telling the lawyer about the man, but he didn't need to. The man rose from his seat silently and began to swiftly approach them. Alex noticed.

The man stopped right at the edge of their table, standing almost awkwardly.

"Uh, may I help you?" Alexander asked warily.

The man, who was wearing a hooded cloak, reached up to lift up the hood. Alex yelped in shock and surprise then jumped out of his chair, creating a loud **bang** as it hit the floor.

"Edward, by God, is that you?!"

The man - apparently Edward - smiled sheepishly. "Hello, Alex. Been a while..."

Jalin stood slowly and furrowed his eyebrows. "Are you two brothers, then?"

Indeed, they looked strikingly similar. Edward even had shoulder-length black hair tied up into a loose, messy bun. The only difference that stood out was Edward bore no facial hair. That, and the fact that Edward's nose wasn't hooked like Alexander's was. It was slightly more upturned.

Alexander shook his head, though. "No, but we might as well be! We grew up together in the same house after I was orphaned. I suppose I was adopted into his family."

Edward nodded. "My father took him in when he had nowhere else to go. We were very close, and we wrote a bit after he left for New York, but eventually, we lost touch. My father sent me to find him again."

"Hang on," Alex said, "You're a wizard?"

"You... could say that. I'm a squib. But my whole family is magical."

"Oh. Okay. So, why did your father send you to me?"

"Well, he was rummaging through some old papers someone had dumped on his doorstep and found something that might interest you."

At that, Edward reached into his coat and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. "It's regarding your dad, Alex."

Alexander froze. His eyes drifted to the parchment in his friend's hand. "My... my dad?"

Edward nodded. "For one, he's still alive."

Alex nearly screamed, but Edward stopped him by saying, "And two - he went to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

* * *

 **I'm sure you already know this but Edward Stevens was a real person and one of Hamilton's closest friends from the Caribbean. IRL they did look very similar and people often mistook them for brothers. People always speculated Eddie's father was Alexander's biological father.**

 **There, unfortunately, aren't any portraits of Edward so you can't compare them now, but there are several letters (I believe addressed to Alex himself) talking about this.**


	27. Flowers (1yr Anniversary Chapter!)

**BLESS co-writer for writing the good majority of this chapter... the first 2k words! I was experiencing major writer's block and fren came to the rescue ^^**

 **Today, the 5th of January, marks the one year anniversary of when I posted the first chapter on AO3! Time sure flies!**

 **There's a certain theme to this chapter. Can you guess what it is?**

 **[CAUTION: PANIC ATTACK WARNING]**

* * *

Alexander couldn't seem to believe it.

After what had seemed to be almost hours of conversation and of the not, Edward finally bid farewell, explaining he had urgent matters to attend to.

Jalin dawdled behind as they exited the room, the lawyer in front paying no attention as he strode in the direction of their apartment, not giving so much as the slightest show of acknowledgement when Jalin paced next to him, repeatedly tapping his arm in an attempt to gain a form of his comrade's attention.

"Alexander," he finally spoke, his words surprisingly cold - demanding. The addressed man flinched at the unfamiliar tone, turning to look at Jalin as he continued his walk.

"Yeah? Sorry, Jalin, I haven't seen Edward since what feels to be the dawn of earth. I'm going to head back to the apartment to think, okay?" Alex straightened his back, clearing his throat as he turned his head forward before he spoke once more, "We don't really have anything we need, so I can't ask you to do anything to keep you busy, just," Alex's voice faltered for what seemed to be a millisecond, "I'm probably going to be thinking about weird things. Please don't bother me."

Jalin's demeaning look had almost instantly changed to a sheepish smile, "Sorry. I understand - it must be quite overwhelming to see him again after so long."

"Well, yeah." Alexander shrugged, fishing for the key he had tucked away in one of his pockets as they entered the apartment building.

The pair strode in silence as they scaled the stairway leading to the apartment. Opening the door in an instant, it was quickly closed before the pair split to do what they required individually.

* * *

Jalin hesitated as he brought his wand out from his pocket, quickly darting a look over his shoulder, Jalin's eyes rested upon Alexander, sat on the couch with his knees brought to his chest and arms hugging his calves.

Crouching, the male uttered a barely audible counter charm as he pointed his wand towards the cupboard in front of him. A small click vibrated from the storage area before it silently opened, revealing a small jar of leftover materials used in the making of the potion - small vials filled with a thin crimson liquid lay in neat rows within the cabinet.

Reaching out, Jalin clasped a hold of one of the vials, closing and immediately locking the cabinet after with a wave of his wand, Jalin stared - no, rather, glared at the vial as if attempting to decipher an impossible riddle.

The potion lasts around eighteen hours - probably more, Jalin mused, a pensive look overcoming any other emotion before it, _so, if I continue to take the potion at 7 am, I believe I should have no problems with it wearing off later in my sleep._

Jalin abruptly began recklessly twirling the crimson vial between his fingers, _but that makes me want to know how long it takes to wear off exactly._

Sighing, Jalin pocketed the potion, feeling not the need to waste time placing it back with its kin.

"Oi, Jalin." A female voice abruptly bounced into his ears. Turning around, his eyes vacant of any emotion, Jalin was greeted with the sight of a small, transparent girl, who floated weightlessly above the ground.

"Hello, Celia," the greeted the ghost curtly.

"Are you taking another one of the potions? The one you took this morning hasn't worn off yet, you know," she said matter-of-factly.

Celia had the appearance of a newly turned adolescent; her gown in which she had died in was singed with scorch marks that similarly decorated her skin. Her blonde hair had been tied into a plait, although the locks messy, introducing the idea she had been killed as she woke from her slumber or as she slept.

Jalin's eyes darted to where Alexander sat, however, to the males respite, he seemed not to have noticed the young appearing ghost that had entered the room.

"Tone it down," Jalin spoke in an abrupt icy manner, "Should he hear you, I know many ghost banishing spells."

The girl snorted, as if unconvinced by Jalins threat, "Are you attempting to intimidate me?" She paused, a smirk placing itself on her features, "Bravo. I'd rather not get into a fight with my neighbours because I lost my land."

"Good," Jalin said dismissively.

A silence of some sorts enveloped the pair, leaving them only stare, hostile to the other.

"Why?" Celia mumbled, "Why would you want to get rid of the feeling of... love? Love is such a wonderful feeling and you have the possibility to make it grow even more pleasurable." The girl stared straight into Jalins eyes, "So why won't you take the chance? Why are you being so ungrateful?" Her words were hushed but spoke with the edge of a knife. However, coming into contact with Jalin, the blade blunted, bouncing back harmlessly.

"This," Jalin hesitated, "Love, I feel, cannot be expressed."

"Why not?" Celia growled, "You have every power to make it so he knows of your feelings, at least!"

Jalin's hostile act dropped, leaving him to stare forlornly at the kitchen floor, "Celia, a man loving another man was illegal when you were alive as well, wasn't it?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"That's why," Jalin whispered, "He has a wife. He can live happily. If I convey my feelings to him, who knows how much trouble he'll get into with the law. They'll suspect him - oh god, they could jail him." Jalin's voice cracked slightly, "I don't want him to go through that. Because I love him so much."

Celia stood, taken aback before rushing over sheepishly to the male, whose head hung low, "Jalin, the potions are giving you mood swings. What do you think this is, a soap opera? Get your shit together. Nobody needs to know, just tell him in private. It doesn't need to lead anywhere and it may make your future relationship awkward, but I promise it will help you."

"What bullshit logic is that?" Jalin muttered, "I love him, so I want to be by his side. Confessing and paving a way for an awkward relationship is... it's the death sentence, Celia."

"Well..." the ghost trailed off, attempting to think of a way to lift the males spirits, "You think my company's okay, yeah?"

"It's not the same as his—"

"Then I'll haunt you forever." Celia said decisively, "So no matter what, you'll never be alone, even if you do mess up and never see that man again."

* * *

It was late at night. Neither Alexander or Jalin left the apartment since their morning, but frankly, Alex was surprised when a plate of edible-looking things arrived before him for dinner.

Apparently, Jalin was a master in the art of cookery.

Alex had been sure to comment on the food. The pair made idle conversation before saying their good nights, and Jalin was out like a light. Alex stayed awake till early morning before dozing off after he found a debatably comfortable position on the couch.

Celia licked her dried lips, subconsciously wondering how her lips could be chapped in the first place.

Her azure irises found themselves lingering on Alex's figure, _well, he is quite the looker_ she mused silently before providing Jalin's body with her attention.

She couldn't say she loved him in the way he loved Alexander, but she believed there was something akin to a sibling relationship growing between them.

Because she desperately wanted to help him.

Celia adverted her eyes to the floor.

She knew what it felt like to be in love.

She knew what it felt like to not receive it.

And she hated the feeling.

It was a pain that constructed your chest - as though your body was slowly collapsing in. As though someone has grabbed a hold of your heart and started squeezing it with all their might. The pain almost seemed to paralyse any other part of your body - focusing everything on the agony that wrapped itself around your chest and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed...

Perhaps it was just a coincidence they had met. Perhaps it was just a coincidence they bore the same last name.

But Celia had always believed that blood was thicker than water. She only had hope that the reason she was not sent with her family into whatever else lies beyond that clouded sky was for Jalin.

And for him, too.

Celia snorted, what story do you think you're the protagonist of, hey? Life isn't a soap opera. Stop fucking around and get your shit together.

Yet as she peered out the window to the luminous full moon that soared next to the stars, her lips began to tremble, her hands curled into fists as a strangled cry escaped her mouth.

There it was once more. The constricting feeling of heartache and pain, melted together into the hot tears that ran down her cheeks as she furiously wiped them away, only for a dozen to replace the one.

Celia melted to her knees, gasping for air and respite of the clenching pain in her chest. Her hand clawed where her heart would be, attempting to rip away the force that gave her such pain.

But it attacked - relentlessly. Crumbling to a mess of unreal mucus and tears, Celia cried, her sobs silent as to not wake the pair that dared to sleep with such unguarded exteriors.

* * *

 _Jalin dropped the liquid down his throat, the sensation almost burning, yet the taste was strong of cinnamon and liquorice._

 _He gasped, immediately corking the vial once more as he gently placed in the cabinet from whence it came._

 _Recalling the warning of drowsiness listed after consumption that was scripted in the potions guidebook Jalin had used, he dawdled to the couch, only to pass by as he noticed Alexander, fast asleep on the cushions._

 _Falling onto the mattress, Jalin bothered not to undress as he crawled under the sheets, resting his head on the pillow before hearing an abrupt voice._

 _"You do know what that potion does, right?"_

 _The young, female voice startled Jalin. He flinched, jumping out of his skin at the sight of an azure-eyed girl no older than 12._

 _Jalin immediately took note of the girl's transparency, instantly signalling his brain that the girl who stood in front of him was a ghost._

 _"Sorry," Jalin paused, "Who are you?"_

 _"My name is Celia," the girl replied, crossing her arms over her chest, "Cease your ask of questions and answer mine."_

 _"O-oh," Jalin stammered, "Well, the potion I used," his voice faltered before he cut it off immediately._

 _A silent pause echoed through the room._

 _"See?" The girl pointed out matter-of-factly, "You can't even say what that potion is for. You're too ashamed."_

 _"I'm not ashamed," the former lawyer fired back._

 _"I would be," the girl raised her eyebrows, "To deny the feeling of love that has accepted you as its holder, no matter whom for..." the girl trailed off, "I believe that is the ultimate disrespect."_

 _"I don't need to be lectured by a dead twelve-year-old, kid," Jalin hissed, annoyed, "I'm tired. I'm going to bed. I'm going to sleep." Jalin began rustling around, attempting to find a comfortable spot on the mattress._

 _"You'd choose sleep, the sacrifice of your health and magic over love?"_

 _Jalin ceased his rustling, turning to face the girl as she glared at the floor; her face pulled into an array of anger, disappointment and disbelief._

 _"Listen," Jalin pinched his nose, "If you want to talk to me, do it in the morning. I'm in no condition to converse with people - much less dead ones. I don't even know you, so please kindly fuck off."_

 _Satisfied, Jalin tucked his head under the sheets._

 _He didn't hear a word till the next morning._

* * *

Jalin woke up in bed on the 26th of April, 7 am 1791. He shut his eyes tight a second after opening them because he didn't want to be awake. He wanted to sleep just that little moment longer. Make himself believe that the day hadn't arrived.

Alas, despite his best efforts, he couldn't push it away. He couldn't go back to sleep, so he sombrely stood from the bed and sort of stumbled towards the cupboards where his vials sat. He picked one out of the cupboard and shakily poured three drops down his throat. He gagged. It didn't even taste bad. And yet drinking it just felt so repulsive.

The ex-lawyer didn't feel like eating, and Alexander was still asleep, so the man decided to get a breath of fresh air in an effort to dumb down the side-effects that had once more begun to surface.

A breath of fresh air turned into a walk down to the market. He took quick note of the stalls selling flowers. With an almost mechanical stride, he approached these stalls.

Jalin felt he was especially fond of the orchids, and the dark crimson roses. He considered the sunflowers, however, they were much too cheerful for such a sombre day.

The ex-lawyer grabbed the attention of the lady behind the stall and pointed out the particular flowers he wanted.

"Of course, dear. Potted or in a bunch?"

He told her he wanted them in a bunch. She named the price (no-maj coins, of course), and Jalin gave her what she asked and then some. He told her to keep the change.

Taking the flowers from the lady, Jalin hobbled away.

The ex-lawyer began to simply walk. He didn't pay attention to his surroundings nor to where he was going. Dark brooding clouds hung over the town-city of Los Angeles. The hustle bustle of people going about their daily lives filled Jalin's ears and made him feel overwhelmed, but he kept walking. He kept his head down. Jalin almost wished he had worn something other than his signature blue clothing.

* * *

Alexander woke up at 8 am to an empty apartment. He searched every inch of the house for Jalin and didn't succeed in finding him so he travelled upstairs to ask the receptionist if he left the building at any point. She nodded and pointed in the general direction that he had gone. Alex thanked her then set out to find his comrade in the pouring rain that was slowly turning into a thunderstorm.

"Damn idiot... going out in this weather," Alex muttered to himself.

He wandered around central LA for the most part, wary of the approaching thunderstorm, and wanting stay as close to cover as possible.

He couldn't see any figures that even looked remotely like Jalin walking around. And he couldn't go out onto the road with the rain, so searching from the middle wasn't an option.

Alexander passed by a number of stalls in the marketplace, that all seemed to be closing up shop, or moving their merchandise to a slightly better area. Someone had begun to put out umbrellas. Smart.

He shook his head. _Now is not the time to get distracted. I need to find Jalin._ He tied up his hair so it wasn't in his face then continued walking.

 _Think, Alexander. Where would Jalin go?_

A nice, small cafe was the first answer that popped into his head. That or a library. He figured he'd try the town library first.

 _CRACK._

The sudden bolt of lightning that tore through the sky froze Alex to his spot in the muddy street. The booming thunder that followed suite caused the lawyer to jump, and suddenly he wasn't in Los Angeles anymore, but in the middle of a raging hurricane. Another crack of thunder and he found himself back in present time, scared, alone, and freezing cold. Rain pooled in his eyelashes then fell into his eyes, it rolled down his forehead and soaked his clothes.

 _CRACK._

The lightning lit up the darkened skies, flashed in Alexander's eyes and forced them shut. The lawyer was falling, falling into a deep abyss of neverending suffering and fear. Merciless winds struck his unguarded torso, it threw him around, it shook the ground and uprooted trees. T _he ear-piercing shrieks of the distressed were sufficient to strike astonishment into angels-_ it got harder and harder to breathe, his throat was tightening and his vision blurred- he fell.

And there was another crack, and he was back again. The streets had become near deserted. The storm raged on. But there was no hurricane.

Alexander took a deep breath. He counted to ten in French. Then counted backwards in Spanish.

 _No storms can harm me whilst I am here._

* * *

Alexander shakily walked the streets of Los Angeles, flinching at every bolt, jumping at any crack of thunder. He didn't necessarily pay attention to where he was going, but after some time he found himself passing by the cemetery. On any average day, Alexander would have ignored it. Passed it by without so much as sparing it a glance. But he heard something on this day, something that sounded like distant crying. Even over the storm, he could hear the strangled cries of a young man in distress.

Despite his fears, Alexander moved to investigate. He followed the source of the crying until he stumbled upon a hunched-over man holding flowers. He wasn't sitting at any particular grave.

Alex knew better than to disturb a grieving man - or woman - but this person was not sitting at a grave, and it was peculiar. "Are you alright?" he called, flinching slightly at the shakiness of his voice. Just his luck, at the moment he called a particularly loud thunderous boom echoed through the sky. Alex barely refrained from squealing.

The man only cried harder, and harder.

Alexander tried again. "Are you alright?!"

This time, the man seemed to have heard him and appeared to be choking on his own tears for a moment, only to scream at the muddy ground and began to cry harder than he had previously been.

"You should get inside!" Alexander called, "You'll catch a cold! Would you like me to buy you a hot drink?!"

The only response received was another scream- only this one felt different. It felt frustrated- angry. _Enraged._

Alexander began to approach the man, and as he got closer he got a clearer view of who was in front of him. The lawyer reached out tentatively to tap his shoulder, uncertain...

It all seemed to happen at once. The man stood up abruptly and with great force shoved Alexander to the point where he almost fell over. The facial expression of the person in front of him was something he could never forget, it was something that would forever be engraved into his mind. The enraged expression belonging to one Jalin Lovegood stared him in the face.


	28. Obsession

**"A look so quick, a movement so slight, you can almost imagine how it didn't just happen."br /**

 **The title of this chapter is Obsession and I happen to adore Ok Go. An opportunity not wasted.**

 **Beau is pronounced 'bo' just like in Rochambeau**

 **Got a sudden burst of inspiration yesterday and wrote like half the chapter.**

 **This took so long because I've been going through a tough spot in my life. Nothing has happened, but I'm just not feeling the greatest. Luckily, I was bored at a school event yesterday.**

* * *

 **[WARNING : OCD ANXIETY ATTACK]**

Alexander watched in stunned silence as Jalin fell to his knees, anger disappearing from his pale features immediately, and being replaced with terrible pain and deep anguish. Alex didn't want to say anything, not that he knew what to say anyway. Instead, he kneeled down next to Jalin then rested a hand on his trembling shoulder.

Alexander didn't know what had caused Jalin to be in such pain, but it wasn't fit for him to ask, so he let it be. Nearly half-an-hour had passed when Jalin finally began to calm down. _He must have really needed to cry._

Another five minutes passed. Alexander decided it was finally time to break the silence.

"Do you want to head back to the apartment?" he asked quietly.

There came no response from Jalin but a simple, subtle nod.

"Okay," Alex said, gently grabbing Jalin's arm and pulling him up slowly. Jalin faltered for a moment but he stood on his own two shaky legs.

Alexander ended up holding Jalin's hand all the way back.

* * *

It was midnight. The ex-lawyer hadn't spoken a word since they arrived back at the apartment. Alexander was writing a letter to his Eliza.

 _Dearest Betsey_

 _I am unsure what I am to do with Jalin._

 _It began to pour down with rain just this morning at 8 am. Jalin had seemingly left the house so I decided to venture out into this storm to find him, lest he gets caught in it. As I neared the market lightning began to strike, so I knew I had to find my friend soon. As I was passing by the cemetery, I heard someone crying in deep anguish, I looked over to my right and discovered none other than Jalin himself, kneeling on the muddy ground and screaming into it. The peculiar thing about it is that he was not sitting at any particular grave. I cannot think of what he was doing. Perhaps he had found himself lost? I am yet to ask him._

 _He rests now._

 _How are the children, Eliza? Are they missing me yet?_

 _I am only joking. Say hello to them for me._

 _Your loving husband,_

 _Alexander Hamilton_

As he finished writing up his letter, he noticed a small movement from the corner of his eye. He glanced over and saw Jalin had curled himself up into a ball and was quivering as if he were cold.

Before Alex could go over and comfort his friend, there was a knock on the door. Sighing, Alexander stood to greet whoever the actual hell was visiting at this hour.

Naturally, it was Thomas Jefferson. He was holding a rolled up piece of parchment.

"It's twelve in the fucking morning. What the hell do you want?" Alex snarled.

"Well, I simply came here to give you my testimony, dear Hamilton," Jefferson countered with stupid confidence, "I wrote it all down. But, well, if you don't want it..."

"Give it."

Alexander snatched the parchment from the Virginian's hand, and Jefferson smirked.

It had writing on both sides, and the handwriting was shaky.

"Did you write this riding a horse?" Alex sneered.

Jefferson scoffed. "I could write on horseback and still have better handwriting than you."

"You wish."

Either way, the contents of the parchment described the events fairly well.

"This sets up a really good case," Alex said, "I might copy this and send it down to Garrison."

"Don't tell me you're actually going to rewrite it?"

"How else would I-"

"There's a spell for copying documents, dumbass."

Alexander blinked. "There is?"

Jefferson took the parchment from the lawyer and placed it down on the table. He pulled out his wand then pointed it at the paper. " _Geminio."_ The Parchment doubled, and Jefferson handed one copy to Alex. "I recommend you learn more spells, Hamilton."

Alexander stared down at the copy with an exasperated expression. _That settles it,_ he thought, _I'm going to become a better wizard than Jefferson if it's the last thing I do._

* * *

Jalin was tapping his foot. He counted everytime his toes hit the floor.

 _He's weirded out now. You weirded him out._

Thoughts raced through his head - but he kept counting.

 _One two three four five six seven eight nine ten ..._

 _What if he hates you?_

 _... fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty twenty-one ..._

 _He hates you._

 _... twenty-five twenty-six twenty-eight twenty-nine thirty ..._

 _What have you done? It's all your fault._

... thirty-one thirty-two thirty-three thirty-four thirty-five thirty-six thirty- _eig-_

 _no, you counted wrong, how could you be so stupid? You have to start all over again now. It's your fault. You're wasting your own time._

 _one two three four five six seven eight_

 _did you really count eight? What if you didn't? Better start again to be sure_

 _one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty twenty-one_

 _twenty twenty-one? it sounds so wrong. that's not right. you must have done something wrong again, you moron. Start again. You have to get to a hundred. Or you're a failure._

 _one two three four-_

"What are you doing?"

"I can't- I can't stop."

 _-five six seven eight-_

Alexander sat down next to Jalin on the bed. "Why not?"

"I-I can't. I need to get to a hundred but I keep messing up or losing track, I can't- I need-"

 _nine ten eleven twelve_

"Why do you need to get to a hundred?"

"I have to. I have to or I'm a failure. I need to."

"Jalin, you're not a failure. Come on, stop tapping your foot..."

 _"No!"_

Alex jumped, startled. "You really want to get to a hundred?"

"I _need_ to."

A sigh. "Okay. Okay. Let me count with you, then. To make sure you don't mess up."

"You'd do that?"

"Of course. Are you ready?"

"Y-Yes."

"Okay. One."

"Two.

"Three."

"Four."

"Five."

"Six."

"Seven."

"Eight..."

* * *

What was that earlier?" Alexander asked suddenly. He was eating an apple in the kitchen and Jalin was lying in bed.

"Are you talking about the counting or the graveyard?"

"I was initially talking about the counting, but I'm also curious about the graveyard."

Jalin shifted his position slightly. "The counting is just something I do. When I'm feeling bad, I just... I just need to count. If I don't get to the number I'll... suffocate. Drown in my own anxiety. I hate it."

"How often does it happen?"

"It used to happen a lot but it calmed down. Last time it happened was after I got fired."

"Do you always want to count to a hundred?"

"No. Usually, it's a really specific number. It used to be the same one over and over again. Seventeen."

"That's strange."

"I know, Captain Obvious."

"Well, what about the graveyard?"

Jalin fell silent. He shifted again. Alexander put down his apple core then approached Jalin on the bed. "Look, you don't need to tell me. But if something is going on that I can help with..."

"You can't help."

"You don't know that."

The ex-lawyer abruptly stood up then swayed for a moment. He turned to Alexander who was staring with conviction.

"Yes, I do."

Without another word, he stormed out of the hotel room, and on the way, he picked up his mirror.

* * *

"I need help," Jalin muttered, holding the mirror in his hand. He was sitting on the floor of the public hotel bathroom. "I don't... I don't know how to deal with this. With _any_ of this. Going with Alexander was a huge mistake. I should have stayed home."

There came no response, so Jalin kept talking. "I just want to stop feeling what I feel for him. I want to like girls like I'm supposed to. Alexander said he likes girls _and_ boys, so why don't I?" He sighed. "I was always taught it was wrong. Maybe... maybe it's not. Alexander says it isn't. What do you think?"

Jalin stared down at the mirror in his hand but... there was nothing there. It was just his normal reflection.

"Where'd you go?" he asked, "I really need to talk right now. Don't bail on me."

His own dark eyes glared back at him, mocking. "You've never done this before. Come on."

Jalin jumped to his feet and held the mirror out in front of him, his arm stretched as far as it would go. His voice cracked as he yelled, "Where the fuck are you?!"

His eyes pooled with tears - _what the fuck? -_ and his arm began to shake. His grip on the mirror tightened, fingernails digging into his skin and causing him to bleed. "Where are you?! Stop doing this, this shit isn't a game, where are you?!"

"Jalin."

The sudden voice behind him - _Celia -_ made him jump, and as if in slow motion, his grip on the mirror tightened and it slipped out of his hand, falling to the floor with a deafening crash. A piece of it flew into his leg and he fell to his hands and knees, landing on the other pieces which sliced into his skin.

"No..." he muttered to himself, not caring that the damn ghost girl was floating behind him. "No, no, no..."

"Who were you talking to?"

"None of your fucking business- oh god, my mirror, it's broken, it's- I can't-"

Frantically he snatched every piece, not caring if they hurt his hands further, and rearranged them. "I need my wand, I need my wand..."

Celia watched, flustered, as Jalin left the room at lightning speed.

* * *

When Jalin returned to the bathroom, Celia had left. But he didn't care.

He kneeled down next to his broken mirror parts and shakily pointed his wand at them. His voice shook as he said, "Repairo." The pieces instantly fused back together, as though it had never smashed in the first place. With a sigh of relief, Jalin sat his back against the wall.

"Where have you gone..." he said with a sombre expression, "I need you here."

And with that, he began to cry into his hands.

* * *

"Jalin, I've been sent a letter from the Prosecutor on the case. He wants to meet us."

Jalin had returned to their room with red, puffy eyes. His hair in disarray. The man hadn't spoken a single word.

"Do you want to come along?"

When Alexander got no response, he sighed pensively. "I know you're in a sour mood at the moment, but Jalin this is our job-"

"It's _your_ job."

Alex glared at the Jalin under the covers. "Yeah? Well, when I run my OWN firm, I'll hire you then it WILL be _our job."_ Alexander slid on his green overcoat and stuffed a small apple into one of the pockets. He snatched his wand from the kitchen counter, angrily shoved it into the same pocket, then with vigour he slammed the door open then slammed it shut again, venturing down the hall and up the stairs, making sure he stomped his feet.

"I'll go meet the Prosecutor, then..." he mumbled.

* * *

When Alexander heard the name 'Donovan Rambeau' he was expecting a rich piece of utter crap, like Jeffershit. However, the man wasn't like that at all.

Alex entered the wizard cafe, glancing around for a man in a pretentious outfit, but when he began to approach one, he got a tap on the shoulder.

"Alexander Hamilton, I believe?" a voice with a hint of raspiness came from behind. Alexander turned around and was met with a man with long brown hair pulled into a messy bun, a few loose strands hanging in front of his face. His eyes were as dark as the night sky, and his facial hair was unkempt and patchy. The outfit he wore wasn't too eye-catching, being an assortment of mostly grey, however, it suited him quite well.

"Who are you?" Alex asked, unsure as to whether THIS was Donovan, or someone else.

"Donovan Rambeau." He held out a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hamilton."

Alexander resisted raising an eyebrow. "Likewise," he said as he shook Rambeau's hand, "What did you want to discuss?"

"I merely wished to get to know the man I will be facing in court. Though, of course, if you desire to discuss the case..."

Rambeau sat down at a table with four seats. "I will not be fussed."  
Alex sat opposite him.

 _There's something off about this guy._

"So Mr. Hamilton..." Rambeau began, "Tell me about yourself."

"There isn't much to tell. I'm a lawyer, just looking to make a living."

"I know for a fact that there's more about you than that, Mr. I Cheated On My Wife."

Alex froze.

He physically felt the colour drain from his face.

Suddenly the room was a lot colder.

Rambeau simply smiled.

"Who are you?" Alex asked.

The Prosecutor picked up a fork and twirled it in his hands. "I personally don't know why they don't hire more lawyers who know legililmensy. Although... you're trying to learn aren't you? Well, I might be able to help you if you wished."

"You're a legilimens?"

"You got it. So, Mr. Hamilton." He put the fork down, at the same time he stared directly into Alex's eyes. "Tell me about yourself, if you will."

Alexander felt uncomfortable knowing this man was in his head. He felt violated. "I don't need to tell you anything, you're already in my head."

Rambeau laughed lightly. He made no comment, but nothing needed to be said about it. "I might as well tell you about myself then, yes? Well, I was born and raised in New York, I lived there for most of my formative years. When the war began my parents took me and moved to Virginia. That's where I stayed for the remainder of my teenage years. Then when I turned nineteen I moved here to Los Angeles. That was just last year."

"You're nineteen?!" Alex cried.

Rambeau laughed. "Well, I'm twenty now as of last month."

"What are you, some kind of genius?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps things are different in the wizarding world compared to your no-maj one."

Alexander gulped. _This guy knows everything about me now. Even Laurens..._

"You'd be correct. I don't judge though. Love is love."

 _This guy is fucking weird. He's a genius, he's too nice, and he can read minds, and yet there's something else about him. Such a weird aura about him._

"I appreciate the compliment."

Alexander made a mental note not to think around this guy, which earned a chuckle from the guy himself.

"Have you met with the defendant?" Alex asked, trying to divert the conversation.

Rambeau shook his head. "I'm yet to. If I find out he's innocent before I've even begun to build my case, then I might as well quit. If he's innocent I'll find out in court like anyone else. At least by that point I'll have already made my case and I'd have no choice. But I'm yet to come across an innocent defendant. Though, I haven't been a lawyer for long."

"Based on what evidence you've been given, what do you think he is?"

"I believe he's guilty. But that could be my bias as a Prosecutor speaking."

"You already know what I think, so I won't bother saying it..."

Rambeau smiled. It sent chills down Alexander's spine. "Don't let me take away your words. I know you love to speak."

Even the man's stare was enough to paralyse you. His smile was chilling, even though Alex was certain it was genuine. Rambeau knew this. Of course he did. Was he doing it on purpose or was it just the way he smiled?  
Rambeau said nothing as Alexander thought about all this, which only made him all the more creepy.

People were beginning to stare, as two men were staring at each other and not saying a word. One was smiling and one was frowning, uncomfortable.

 _This is the man who I have to face in court?_

"I have to leave," Alexander finally said. "My friend will be worried about me."

"I'm sure," Rambeau said as he stood to shake Alexander's hand. "Till we meet again."

 _I never want to meet you again._

Alexander wanted Rambeau to hear that line. It had the desired effect, the man's smile faltered for a second, but it was back before anyone would really notice.

"Goodbye then," said Alex, and he left the cafe.

* * *

 **"It's not passin' fascination now, it's obsession."br /**

 **Gotta love Ok Go.**

 **Rameau's looks and age TOTALLY aren't based off this YouTuber I'm obsessed with... pffffft**


	29. 27th of April

**This chapter was originally supposed to be fluffy and a nice break from all the angst.**

* * *

 _27/4/1791_

Jalin didn't like celebrating his birthday. He didn't want anything to do with the stupid date. Every year, when that day arrived, the people in the offices would wish him a Happy Birthday, not knowing what had happened to him all those years ago. But he never told them to stop because he didn't want to be rude.

But now he didn't work in the offices, and Alexander didn't know about his birthday, so he was safe.

Well, he thought he was safe until a letter landed on his lap. Jalin looked up to see Alexander hovering over him, "Happy Birthday, Jalin!" he said, all too cheerily.

Jalin stared back down at the words "HAPPY" and "BIRTHDAY" in Garrison's perfect handwriting. Against his own will, he felt his eyes well up with tears. _I don't want my birthday celebrated._

"Thanks," he muttered, turning over onto his side so Alexander couldn't see his grim expression.

He heard the lawyer make his way to the kitchen bench, and take a bite of an apple. "So that Prosecutor was all types of creepy," he said with a full mouth. Jalin ignored him but he kept talking anyway. "He's a legilimens, so he was reading my mind and being super weird about it. His smile was so creepy. I couldn't tell if he was doing it on purpose or... anyway, I'm not looking forward to facing _that_ guy in court but I'll have you so we should be good. Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday though?"

Jalin didn't want to open his mouth in the fear that he'd start bawling, so he remained silent.

He heard footsteps approaching him. "Jalin, if you don't want to talk, that's fine. But I want to make your birthday the best birthday you could possibly have, so what do you say we go to a nice restaurant? I'll pay."

The ex-lawyer clutched Garrison's letter tightly in his hand, yet to open it. He wanted to burn it but couldn't do that while Alexander was present.

"Come on Jalin. I know you're dealing with a lot of shit right now, and I probably will understand none of it because god knows what goes on in your head, but let me treat you today. I want to. We could order pancakes?"

Jalin sniffled. _I love pancakes._

"Or, or, you know, if you don't want to do that we can go do something else. We can go down to the market and buy a bunch of stupid stuff for the hell of it. Or we can take a nice long walk until the sun sets, though that would be a very long walk. Work with me here."

When Jalin didn't respond, Alex huffed. The ex-lawyer felt the bed dip down as Alex sat on it. "Please talk to me," he said in a soft voice. "I can't help you if I don't know what's going on. I went through a depression after Laurens died, and I understand how you feel. What happened?"

 _You could never understand. Look at you, you're so happy. You have a family, happily married. Who do I have? No one. My whole family is dead. They're either dead, or they've left me. Everyone has left me. Eventually, you will too._

There was a loud huff then suddenly the covers were pulled off him, and he yelped.

"Right, get up, we're gonna do something whether you like it or not. You've been nothing but miserable this entire time and it's about time we changed that. Come on, up!"

Alexander pulled Jalin out of the bed which made his arm begin to ache. Then Alex proceeded to drag him away.

"Alexander! I don't want to go anywhere, just please-"

"Nope, come on, I've made up my mind. I think there's this really nice restaurant not far from here."

Jalin tugged on his arm in response, letting out an exasperated, yet somewhat panicked reply, "Alex — Alex, please,"

His plea fell on deaf ears, Alexander simply giving him a warning glance before reaching to open the apartment door.

"Alexander!" Jalin was shaking now, eyes wide as they gleamed with a sheen of tears, "Alexander!" His voice was higher, louder. In response, the addressed man turned to look at Jalin, ever so slightly irked.

"Jalin, please, I'm trying to do something for you!" He cried, his tone exasperated.

"I don't — I don't want you to! Leave me alone!"

"Jalin—"

The brown haired male ripped his forearm from the lawyers grasp, scrambling through the apartment till he leapt into the bed, covering his head with the sheets as he curled into a ball.

Something between a groan of agitation and a sigh sounded from Alexander, "Stop being so difficult. If you told me what was wrong, I could help you," he attempted to reason.

Underneath the sheets, Jalins face darkened; "Shut up. Leave me alone," he growled ever so stubbornly.

"Jalin, oh my God—" The lawyer cut himself off with yet another groan, "Y'know what? Come to me when you actually want help." Alexander lowered his tone to that barely audible, "Happy Birthday."

As the sound of Alexander's fading footsteps and the slam of the apartment door, Jalin poked his head out from under the bedsheets, his face still furrowed in a look of mixed anger and pure depression.

Despite his outer exterior, Jalin felt a hugely unwelcome hollowness in his stomach. Letting out a short growl, he tucked himself under the sheets again, hugging his knees close to his chest before closing his eyes in an attempt to calm himself.

* * *

 _Bastard!_ Alexander continuously screamed in his head, _bastard, bastard, bastard!_

 _But who is the real bastard?_ A voice sounding suspiciously similar to Burr mused.

 _I, of course,_ Alexander replied wordlessly, his soundless tone stubborn, _but fucking hell, Jalin's being such a—_

 _Such a what?_ The smirk on his nonexistent lips was plenty emphasised in his tone.

 _He isn't helping at all! He's probably got a shit ton of other shit going on, that's what therapists are for! He isn't accepting my offers of assistance and he's a bloody mess!_

Alexander paused, halting in his tracks as he scanned his surroundings.

He didn't recognise those buildings.

 _Ah, shit._

* * *

Jalin stared at the roof, doing his best to hold back tears. To avoid panicking, he tapped his fingers continuously against the bed sheets. To avoid thinking about Alexander, he counted all the splotches on the wooden roof.

 _There's thirteen. That's an uneven number._ He scrunched up his face in disgust.

Before he could grab his wand to just add one more splotch to the roof, someone was knocking on the door. If it were Alexander, he'd have waltzed straight in. So it was someone else.

"Who is it?" he yelled, quickly wiping his eyes.

"Your witness," the person replied.

 _Jefferson?_

"Alexander isn't here at the moment."

"You're working with him though."

 _Touche._

Jalin stood to get the door. He opened and stared up at Jefferson.

"What do you need?"

"Well, I needed to talk to Hamilton, but seeing as I'm here and he's not I might as well just chat."

Jalin ran his hand through his hair, then tugged on the ribbon so it all came undone. It barely touched his shoulders.

He sighed. "Sure, come in." Jalin stepped aside and Jefferson walked in with his magenta - _fuschia?_ \- coat swishing at his feet.

"So," Jefferson began, "How did you and Hamilton meet?"

"I approached him in a bookstore and was promptly yelled at. Then later we were assigned to the same case, and we shared an office."

"Past-tense?"

"I was fired because I called him a 'son of a bitch'. I got mad."

Jefferson raised an eyebrow and smirked, amused. "You were fired? If you were working with Washington when you called him that you would have gotten off scot-free. Who was your boss?"

"Mr. Garrison. Honestly, he was one of the best bosses I ever had."

Jefferson sat down on the couch then crossed his legs. "But strict?"

"But strict."

The Virginian hummed. "Lovegood."

"Yes?"

"I've heard that name before. Lovegood. Wealthy, pureblood?"

Jalin nodded but remembered Jefferson was facing away from him and couldn't see his nod. "Yes."

"I think my father knew your mother. Euphemia, isn't it? How is she?"

Jalin hadn't heard his mother's name in years. He never talked about her. He hesitated.

"She, uh, she died. Many years back. I was seventeen."

There was a moment of silence.

"I am very sorry to hear that," Jefferson finally said, "She was a lovely woman."

Jalin couldn't quite yet understand why Alexander hated this man. He had his moments, yes, but was otherwise... just fine.

* * *

Jalin and Jefferson talked for a while. About Alexander, mostly, and how annoying the guy was. Eventually, Jefferson asked what their relationship was like.

Jalin had hesitated. "It's... I wouldn't say it's toxic. I know he genuinely cares about me, and I do care about him, but he's... I mean, the reason he's not here at the moment is because he got mad at me. It's my birthday, and-"

"Happy Birthday."

"No..."

Jefferson stared at Jalin pensively. "Not happy?"

"No..." Jalin repeated, "Not at all."

"Can I ask why?"

 _Alexander didn't ask why. Well, he did. But he was demanding. Jefferson, he... he's just curious._

Nonetheless, Jalin hesitated. _Why should I tell him anything? This man that Alexander despises with every fiber of his being?_

 _I can't just say it. I can't._

"My mother died the day before my birthday."

But he did say it.

"I found out the day of," he continued. His eyes stung with tears. He tried to keep his voice from shaking. "She had brain cancer. Nothing they could do, even with magic."

Jalin was staring at his feet, biting his lip so he wouldn't audibly cry. Not in front of Jefferson.

There were footsteps. They stopped in front of Jalin, and a hand landed on his shoulder. He flinched.

"Look at me," Jefferson drawled. Jalin reluctantly looked up at the Virginian. The man's deep brown eyes stared into his soul. "I like the dreams of the future better than the history of the past. Your mother would want you to have a good, fulfilling life, would she not? Do not weep for her, as cold as that might sound. It is in the past. It happened, and you can't change something like that," his voice cracked as he said this, Jalin opted not to ask why. "They're gone, but they're watching over you. And they love you. And they want you to be happy."

Jalin stared at the dark hand on his shoulder. It was shaking, and gripping tightly. Jefferson's expression was pained. _Has he lost someone too?_

"But I miss her so much."

"And I miss my children. But we can't always have what we want, can we?"

Jalin's eyes widened. _He lost his children?_

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't be."

Jefferson took a step back then inhaled deeply. "I ought to get going before Hamilton comes back. You won't tell him about this."

"I won't."

"Good."

Without another word, Jefferson turned on his heel and left.

* * *

"I got fuckin', lost..."

Jalin jumped at the sound of Alexander's voice from the door. It had been about an hour since Jefferson left, and Jalin had been reading.

"It started raining too. Thankfully it didn't last long. But I mean, come on, stupid weather..."

The ex-lawyer tried to ignore Alex, to no avail.

"You're out of bed."

Jalin sighed. "I am," he mumbled. He closed his book and stared at the fireplace, contemplating.

What Jefferson had said earlier struck something in him. And the way he said it. The way his expression was angry, determined, but his eyes were full of sorrow.

 _Why am I still moping around?_ He was over her death, wasn't he? That's what he told Alexander. _So I'm over her death. I have to be, it's been so long. I was seventeen. I'm... thirty-nine, now. You're nearly forty. Why are you still so sad?_

From the corner of his eye, he spotted Celia's ghostly figure hanging behind Alexander, staring at him sorrowfully. And he knew what to do.

"Will you take me out to the market?" he asked.

* * *

"Okay, okay, okay, so, which flavour do you want?"

Jalin was almost regretting everything.

It had been about half-an-hour since he'd asked Alexander to take him out to the market, and now the man was non-stop jumping from store to store, and now Alex was offering Jalin some ice cream with a huge grin on his face.

"There's strawberry, and chocolate, and vanilla, and-"

"Plain vanilla is fine, thank you, Alexander."

"Pfft. Boring."

After their ice cream, they immediately jumped over to the next store. And the next. And the next.

"Alexander," Jalin eventually said, tiredly. "Alexander, it's getting late."

He wasn't having fun. Not at all. He just wanted to go back to the hotel and crash onto the bed. But Alexander wasn't finished yet, and Jalin couldn't possibly ruin his fun...

"Yeah I know but we haven't visited the jewellery store yet, or the jam store, or-"

So he was dragged to more stores. The sky was beginning to grow dark, and stores were beginning to close up. Jalin sighed.

"Alexander, the sun is setting." He feared the potion would begin to wear off soon.

Alex looked up at the sky. "So it is." Then a huge grin appeared on his face. "We should go to the beach."

"What?"

"We should go to the beach and watch the sunset!"

"Do I get a say in the matter?" Jalin said as Alexander began to speed-walk away.

The lawyer halted. He hung his head, thinking, then turned around and looked Jalin in the eye. The ex-lawyer shuffled his feet. "Of course you get a say, Jalin. Do you want to go to the beach with me? To watch the sunset?"

All Jalin really wanted to do was sleep. But Alexander looked so hopeful. His eyes were wide as though he were begging Jalin to _please_ go with him.

How could he refuse that?

"Sure," Jalin forced a smile. It seemed he didn't really have a choice in the matter after all.

"Okay. So, the nearest beach is miles away, so..." Alex thought for a moment. "I can't apparate. Plus I've never been there so I couldn't apparate there anyway. Jalin, is there any chance that you've been there before?"

The nearest beach to Los Angeles was Dockweiler beach. His memory of it was vague, but he could picture a very faint image. He had been there once... with his father.

"I've been there," Jalin confirmed. But in his potion state, he wasn't sure he could apparate on his own, let alone have Alexander going side-along. However Alex had already grabbed his hand, and it would seem he didn't have a choice here, either.

Jalin was very thankful when the apparation went fine, and no one was splinched.

* * *

Alexander stared pensively at the sun setting below the horizon of waves. The light breeze made his hair dance in the wind.

He felt the presence of Jalin next to him, glaring ponderously at the sandy beach below.

"This place reminds me of my home back on St. Croix," Alex said, "Not gonna lie, I kind of miss it." When Jalin didn't reply the lawyer continued to talk. "I used to play in the water while my mother watched from the docks. I got really bad sunburn once and I wasn't allowed to go outside for a while, so I read every book in the house."

There was a pregnant pause. "After the hurricane hit though, I stopped going in the water. I haven't been in since. I don't even walk along the beach." Alex took a moment to think. "Would you... would you like to walk along the beach with me?"

Without glancing, Alexander could tell Jalin had turned to look at him.

"Wouldn't you rather share that moment with your wife?" he asked.

 _Eliza._ Alexander's heart ached for her more than anything. And yet...

"No, I want to share it with you."

Jalin's breath hitched. There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence.

"If... if that's what you want, then I'll accompany you."

"What about what _YOU_ want?!"

For the first time since they got there, Alexander turned to face Jalin, whose face was flushed red and brown eyes were brimmed with tears. Alex tried to ignore it.

"I want to know what _you_ does it take to make you appreciate life just a bit more?! You've been nothing but miserable this _entire time._ I'm sick of it. I want you to be happy, and you won't let me help, you won't tell me anything! I know you're probably going through some really messed up shit but it could be so much _easier_ for you if you only let me _help!_ I don't fucking understand you, I never fucking will-"

"My mother died the day before my birthday and I found out the day of. I haven't celebrated my birthday in twenty-two years and I never plan to celebrate it again. I am _not_ over her death. I cannot get over her death. No amount of help from you or anyone else will _ever_ get me over her death. She was the only one keeping me from despair and when she was tkaen away from me like everyone else was I wanted to die. I still want to die. If you weren't here with me right now I would have jumped off this cliff. If I hadn't met you in that bookstore, if I had never approached you, I'd be dead. Because you've been the _only one_ keeping me from ending everything. I've fallen in love with you and I can't fall out."

* * *

 **If it feels like I rushed it towards the end there, it's because I did lol**

 **I really wanted to get this chapter out because it's been more than a month since the last :((**

 **"Jalin sniffled. _I love pancakes._ " ... that line isn't even funny but I think it's hilarious.**

 **Yay, we now have a name for Jalin's mother! It totally isn't a Code Geass reference! What are you even talking about! What!**

 **(spoiler alert: it totally is code geass reference)**

 **"I like the dreams of the future better than the history of the past." - Thomas Jefferson, 1816**


	30. Monticello

**Quill is an amazing writer. Praise her. (She wrote the first scene... unbelievable talent)**

* * *

His laboured breathing rang loud and clear; the constricting ache in his chest growing ever so worse as the familiar yet ever uncomfortable feeling of being pushed into a small tube seemed to only make him want to gasp for air.

Clumsily as he pulled in a shaky breath, he practically fell into the engraved, wooden door he appeared in front of. Fumbling as his hands seemed unable to fully turn the doorknob.

His mission deemed successful, the door swung open with the use of his weight. Without a word, Jalin couldn't stop the tears from running down his cheeks any longer as he fell to the floor. Stumbling his way into a shaky and unstable stance, he slammed the door closed, letting out a barely audible cross of whimper and scream, he looked up pathetically to stare into the brown irises that stared at him with shock.

Abruptly, as Jalin let out yet another animal-like whimper, his already unstable stance seeming too fragile to be allowed to fall to the floor, Thomas rushed forward, tucking his arms around younger man.

Jalin, for all his silence, seemed to howl into Jeffersons' shoulder, the tears that rolled down his cheeks being the carriers each of a porcelain shard, Jalin, in all his fragility, the doll being robbed of his pieces.

But Thomas dared not to speak, gravely closing his eyes as he cradled the wreck of a man to his figure as if he were the duct tape or glue holding together what scattered and already broken remains had been left of a porcelain doll.

Yet his eyes seemed to snap open in a narrowed glare, sending his pointed gaze over Jalins' shoulder at to the door that loomed behind him.

No matter the situation, if each tear continued to carry away each shattered piece of the porcelain doll, what would be left to mend?

And oh, how Jalin despised the constricting feeling that then surrounded him.

* * *

"Will Mr. Jefferson be needing anything else?"

"No, leave us be."

Lovegood hadn't woken up yet.

When Thomas apparated them both to Monticello, the man had immediately collapsed and puked on the floors. Not that Thomas minded too much, the man looked sickly pale and it was probably better for him to get stuff out of his system.

After vomiting, he passed out.

And he'd been asleep for around six hours now. Thomas hadn't dared to leave Lovegood's side, in case he woke up and was worried. But he could barely keep his eyes open much longer. Still, if he was to sleep, he'd sleep in the chair seated next to the bed Lovegood occupied.

There was a knock at the door, and Sally entered the room carrying a bucket and a rag. She placed them down on the opposite side of the bed. She then promptly left without another word, her head down.

Thomas often thought about her. They had their... secret. In Monticello, it was hardly a secret at all and there were rumours outside of Monticello, however, none of it bothered him, because they had no proof. All those people. "Dallying with the Hemings" Hamilton would say with a sneer on his face.

Thomas' headache spiked. He rubbed at his forehead. Even the thought of that prick gives me a migraine.

Something flashed in his vision for a moment, and he froze up. What was that? Often in the middle of his migraines he'd see things. Flashes of light. Sometimes his vision would be clouded in black spots. But never has an image presented itself to him.

He tried to remember it. Tried to bring it back. But to no avail. He supposed he'd never find out what it was. Though he knew it would bother him the whole day, he relaxed in the chair and tried to stay awake for just a bit longer.

His plan to stay awake longer had failed. When he awoke, soft sunlight was shining through the window, and Lovegood was sitting upright in the bed, staring at Thomas with wide eyes.

"Where am I?" he asked, voice barely audible.

"You're in Monticello," said Thomas. He yawned, stretched his legs, then used the wall to get to his feet. "Do you remember anything?"

Lovegood thought for a moment. "I remember being with Alexander, at the beach. Then I... I told him how I felt. And then I was crying. I apparated... and ran to you. I don't remember anything else beyond that point."

"Understandable. I apparated you here, you vomited on my floors, then you passed out."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. What do you mean, Lovegood, when you say you "told him how you felt"?"

The man looked down at his lap. He fiddled with nightgown one of the slaves had changed him into. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. His cheeks flushed red.

Finally, he asked, "Forgive me if this comes across as rude, Mr. Jefferson, but... what sexes are you attracted to?"

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"Alexander told me he likes both sexes. I only like one. Which one do you like?"

"I like women."

"You've never thought about being with a man?"

"Never in my life." _Well, that's a lie. I'm not attracted to James perse... but if I was, then I wouldn't be complaining._

Lovegood sighed. "Might as well say it. Too late to turn back now. I-"

his voice trailed off, and his mouth shut. Thomas sat back down in the chair, rubbing his forehead as his migraine returned.

"You don't have to say."

There was silence, then Lovegood's meek voice said, "I won't, then..."

Thomas felt his forehead throb with pain, and he shut his eyes tight, furrowing his brows.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just - fuck - I've got a migraine. I get these often it's fi-FUCK."

Thomas clutched his forehead and leapt to his feet. This was a mistake because then his knees buckled underneath him and he fell to the floor, his vision covered in white spots. He heard Lovegood jump out of the bed and come to his aid. "Should I call for someone?" he asked, his voice shrouded with worry.

Thomas tried to shake his head, but it made matters worse. He tried to muffle a mangled scream, instead letting out a pained whimper.

Lovegood ran out of the room and called out to the slaves. "Get a doctor!" he yelled.

Thomas collapsed completely onto the floor. The migraine was getting worse and worse, he felt like his head was about to split open, the world was spinning around him, he saw nothing but white spots and flashing lights.

And an image. That same image from before.

It was of a gun.

* * *

There was a muffled voice. No... there were two. They were talking to each other. He tried to make out what they were saying, but his ears were ringing. _Since when did I have tinnitus?_

 _I'm gettin' old._

He tried to crack open his eyes but immediately shut them again when his vision was blinded by an unknown light source. He groaned, bringing his hands up to his eyes and rubbing them.

The voices stopped, and he heard light footsteps.

"Is he awake?"

The voice was like a thunderclap. It penetrated his ears, and he let out a pained yelp. The sound of his own voice was deafening, and the ringing that was beginning to fade came back in full force. He couldn't hear anything. And then everything went dark again.

* * *

The next time he awoke, he was in a dark room. There was no more tinnitus. There was rain pouring outside, and some real thunder rumbled. It would be relaxing if he knew where he was.

He tried to open his eyes again. It hurt to do this, and they felt heavy, however, he managed them open so he peered around the room. He knew immediately where he was, despite the darkness. He was in a hospital room.

"Mr. Jefferson, how are you feeling?"

The sudden voice made him jump. He whipped his head over to the source of the sound and found himself staring wide-eyed at a nun standing with her hands folded in front of her.

Thomas managed to croak out a mangled, "Fine, thanks."

"Would you be needing anything?"

"Water?" his throat was parched.

"Of course."

The nun left the room momentarily, but then she re-entered, "Someone by the name of Jalin Lovegood is wanting to see you, Mr. Jefferson. Shall I let him in?"

"Sure."

She left again, and then Lovegood stepped into the room.

"Are you okay?"

"How long have I been out?" his voice was so weak, and it hurt his throat to speak.

"Three hours give or take. It's 9am."

 _Good. Not too much of my day wasted._

The nun returned with a glass of water. She placed it on the bedside table, then left once more.

"You're getting your own private room," Lovegood said with a hint of humour in his voice, "You must be rich."

Thomas scoffed. "Private room or no, the service is all the same." He took a sip of water.

Lovegood smiled. And it wasn't a forced one, either. But then it dropped, and he stared off to the side. "Alexander must be worried."

"Hamilton?"

"Yes. I just... left, without warning."

"He can survive without you for a day or two."

Lovegood huffed.

There was a comfortable silence between the two men. Much like the ones Thomas shared with James when they got together.

But then Lovegood's breath hitched. When Thomas looked over at him, he was staring off into space with shock, like he'd just been shot in the chest.

"Lovegood?"

"I'm a fucking moron."

"What?"

"I'm an idiot! A stupid piece of shit!"

"What-"

"My medication- I haven't had it. It's like, morning now, yeah? I should've- I should've just gone home. I need... I haven't had my medication. My fucking potion!" he slammed his head against the wall multiple times in a row. Thomas, despite his state, leaped out of the bed and grabbed Lovegood by the shoulders. He yanked him back, and they both fell onto the floor with a loud crash, the shorter man landing on top of the taller.

Lovegood scrambled to his feet, and without warning, he was out the door. There was a loud pop indicating apparation.

Thomas slowly got to his feet just a nun came running in. "Goodness! What on Earth happened!"

"Doesn't matter," he managed to say. And then he apparated too.

* * *

He was pacing.

Back and forth, back and forth.

He'd asked the receptionist if she'd seen him. Nothing.

He asked people walking to their rooms, he walked around and knocked on doors. Even went up to the no-maj area. Nothing.

No one had seen him.

Alexander was on the verge of tears. His friend was missing and had been for a whole night. Alex hadn't slept.

But then the door crashed open. Alexander jumped and turned to stare, and saw Jalin - _oh thank the heavens_ \- whip open one of the cupboards. He pulled out a single vial of some sort of potion, then, all in one go, he gulped it down.

He stood for a few seconds, gasping for air, then collapsed onto the floor. Alex ran over to his friend and began to frantically search for a pulse. He found one - weak and unsteady. He was missing beats.

Another figure burst into the room. Alex almost leaped back when he saw Jefferson kneel down on the other side.

"Jefferson?! What the fuck are-"

"Shhh! How long has he been out?"

"He just collapsed, what-"

"He mentioned something about his medication, a potion. Where is it? Did he take it?"

Alexander picked up the vial from before and held it out. "He gulped this down. The liquid was red - like crimson bloodshed."

"Go upstairs and get a doctor. I'll stay with him and make sure he's still breathing."

Alexander didn't ask questions, even though Jefferson was the one giving commands. He sprinted out the room and up the stairs. He slammed his hand on the counter at the main entrance and the receptionist leapt backwards in fright.

"We need a doctor. Downstairs."

She nodded, grabbing a piece of parchment from under the desk. She began to write furiously, knowing if she didn't Alexander would be yelling.

Then there was frantic yelling from downstairs. It was Jefferson's voice. Without thinking, Alex abandoned the lady writing the letter and sprinted back downstairs. When he reached the room he fell to Jalin's side.

Jefferson was breathing heavily - panicked. "His heart stopped. It stopped. I-I got it workin' again but it had stopped."

"Oh my god- how did you get it to keep beating?"

"I hit him."

"Is he breathing?"

"Um..."

Alexander stood and waddled over to the kitchen draw holding the cutlery. He picked out a knife, then fell back down next to Jefferson.

He held the blade up to Jalin's nose. He was eternally relieved when the metal began to fog up. Satisfied, he got up and placed the knife back in its place.

And there was quiet, the only sound being Jefferson's heavy breathing. _Even his breath has a southern accent._

In an attempt to break the silence, Alexander tried to strike up a conversation. "I... assume he bumped into you when he apparated away last night? Did he say..."

"He didn't 'bump into me', Hamilton, he burst through my apartment door crying and choking on his own tears."

Alex's breath hitched. "Did he say why?"

"He said he told you 'how he felt'. I assume you know what that means." The full southern drawl had returned. Alexander hadn't even noticed it had gone. Was the accent an exaggeration of his real one? Well, of course it was. This was Thomas Jefferson, the pretentious ass. Exaggerating an accent and a limp so he has an excuse to carry around a cane.

"Yeah, I do."

"Care to enlighten me, Hamilton?"

"No, I don't," Alex huffed.

"By the way he was speakin' it sounded like he has a crush on you-"

"Shut it, okay?! It's not fucking important. What's important is that Jalin is very unconscious and there's no doctor to assist us."

Surprisingly enough, Jefferson didn't continue to speak. He sat back and stared out the fake window.

Alexander wasn't fond of simply sitting still, so he stood and began pacing again. Every so often he would stop, check the time, then start again.

It had been nearly an hour when someone knocked on their door. Alexander stared at it with wide eyes, but let Jefferson see who it was.

"Hello. My name is Miles Thompson. I'm a healer..."

"Oh thank god." Alexander stepped forward and rushed the doctor into the room. He then gestured to Jalin. "We don't know what's wrong with him. Earlier, his heart stopped, but we got it to go again..."

"You mean I did."

"Whatever."

"Were there any complications after that?" Thompson asked.

"No, there haven't been. But before it stopped his heart was... off-beat?"

"Heart palpations?"

"Yes."

Thompson kneeled down next to Jalin and used his finger to check his pulse. "It's steady now. How did you get it working again, if I may ask?"

"I hit him on the chest," Jefferson said. "Multiple times."

The doctor hummed. "It looks like a heart attack. But these do occasionally have causes. Would you happen to know how this happened, or at least have an idea?"

"He grabbed some sort of potion from the cupboard and gulped it all down in one go. I don't know what it was..."

Thompson looked around the room. "Which cupboard?"

Alex walked over to the cupboard and pulled it open. Inside he saw many vials filled with the same red liquid. He stepped back so the doctor could see inside.

The doctor stood then picked one of the vials out, examining it. Then his eyebrow raised.

"Do you know what it is?" Alexander asked.

"I... do," the doctor said hesitantly.

"What was it then?" Jefferson asked, curious.

"I'm afraid I can't relay that information to you for privacy reasons. When he wakes up, you can ask him, but now he is unconscious."

"Can you at least tell us why the potion knocked him out?" Alexander stepped forward and stared down at the doctor, who stared back up with a sad look.

"He overdosed. Whether it was intentional or not... I cannot tell."

"It can't be intentional. I mean, he's not..." Alex's voice trailed off. Jefferson looked over at him with something that almost looked like concern. A knot formed in Alexander's throat. "He's not..."

 _"If you weren't here with me right now I would have jumped off this cliff."_

Alex stared at the wall. Suddenly his vision was blurry and he could hardly breathe.

 _But he is._

Alexander didn't try to finish his sentence.

The doctor, saving them from an uncomfortable silence, stood.

"I will see if I can get a room near to yours. I will also be taking these potions with me." With a wave of his wand, all the potions flew out of the cupboard and floated in a neat line next to him. "I'm afraid he might've gotten himself addicted. When he wakes up I'll be within the vicinity."

Thompson left with the vials, the door closing with a soft click behind him. Alexander and Jefferson were left alone again, with an unconscious Jalin on the floor.

Not wanting to speak to his mortal enemy, Alexander moved to pick up Jalin bridal style and place him on the bed. He then stood back and watched his friends' chest rise and fall.

"He told me he was in love with me," he said. "Then he ran away."

"How did you get home?" Jefferson asked after a few moments. Alexander was glad he didn't ask about the first thing.

"I had to apparate. I had been trying to avoid it, considering the first time I tried I splinched myself and passed out. But I had to. I splinched myself again, but it was only small. Just a small cut on my foot."

Alas, Jefferson asking about the first thing was inevitable.

"He's in love with you."

Alex didn't respond. What was there to say?


	31. Chapter 31

**I am so, so sorry that this took so long. I'm not used to writing** full **on chapters as Slime normally does them — I just do a paragraph or two on the occasion.**  
 **I hope this suffices — I know you guys are probably used to way better stuff, but please bear** **with it until you can cleanse yourselves with the next chapter!**

 **\- HaltedQuill (co-writer)**

* * *

Thomas had left a while ago.

Alex remained still, holding his head in his hands and he listened to the slow breathing of the man who remained still beside him.

 _What am I supposed to do?_

His silent questioning brought on a frown as he grimaced, his brown irises glaring holes into the wooden floorboards below. His back and neck ached, but the ruthlessly stubborn part of him refused to adjust his position.

 _What am I supposed to do?_

The question repeated, the male responding as he griped tightly to his hair, his desperation evidently growing on his face.

"I need to distract myself." He muttered incoherently.

"And just toss Jalins feelings aside? What if he wakes up now? What are you going to do?"

"We're gonna have to cross that bridge when we get to it." Standing up, Alex made eye contact with a mirroring set of leather-brown irises, "'Thought there was something else here."

"You're real observant, aren't 'cha?" Celia gave a lopsided smirk, leaning against the doorframe and somehow not through, "Hamilton? I'm Celia. Haunting that incompetent guy there." She gestured her head to Jalin.

Hamilton gave an annoyed look in response, ignoring her as he made his way to the door.

"Oi, aren't you gonna defend your friend? You're lawyer, aren't 'cha?"

The addressed sent a silent glare towards her transparent frame before halting before the doorway, "You aren't supposed to be here.

"'Here'?" Celia cocked her head to the side, her smirk relaxing as she furrowed her eyebrows, "Oh. As in the living world or this hotel specifically?"

Alexander sent her another sharp glare.

"Don't be like that." She gave another smirk, "There are plenty of other ghosts 'round. In lots of wizarding schools, too. Ya' just need to know where to look."

She seemed to float upright, though that barely surprised Alex, despite how bizarre it looked, "You don't seem very surprised," She continued, "From what I'm hearing, you're new to the wizarding community. Is seeing a ghost not enough to scare you?"

"Perhaps, where I in a different situation, I may have attempted to apparate away, despite my lack of expertise in that field," His words reeked of bitterness — enough to make Celia, once again, drop her smirk, "I don't think someone like you may be able to tell, but I'm not in the best of moods."

"Oi, what's 'someone like you' supposed to mean? You pickin' a fight?"

"You voice is ugly." He spoke with a straight face, though his eyes glimmered with annoyance.

"If I could punch you—!"

"Shut up. You're going to wake Jalin up." Alexander let out a bothered puff of air, "You're loud. Go away."

"Damn hypocrite!" She hissed, her canines, though not abnormally sharp, where shown through her growl that would mimic the appearance of a wolfs.

Despite her attitude, Hamilton felt little towards the insult, much unlike how he would normally act. Ignoring her as she went on to complain of various reasons why the living should treat her better, his irises strayed to the floor, unconsciously outlining each mark made in the imperfect and blemished surface.

He was tired, but he didn't want to go to sleep. It was a tired that weighed down his body, not his eyelids. He brought up his eyes to meet those of the seething ghosts before she silenced herself, crossing her arms over her chest as she waited for his response.

"You're haunting Jalin, right?"

Celia gasped, placing a hand over her heart, "You actually paid attention?"

"Look after him." Alexander pivoted on his heel, opening the door in a swift moment.

"E-eh?" The ghost stuttered.

"I'm going out."

"Wait — oi! I need to give you the pep talk I prepared!"

As considerate as he was, Alex craned his neck to look over his shoulder, not exactly giving her his full attention, but time to say what she needed.

"You actually stopped." She whispered in disbelief before clearing her throat, "Anyway — don't leave Jalin hanging. He's a good guy and deserves a response, 'specially since he has the guts to confess to you." She coughed into a balled up fist, "He really cares for you, y'know?"

Barely letting her get the words out, Alexander locked the door behind him, his ruffled attire barely fitting for a day out, much less his devilish hair. Though he cast his eyes to the side, shrinking into his collar, settling into a small silence before disrupting it with a barely audible whisper, "I know."

— - - —

The greying sky that peered in through the window hid away any blue, a shower of rain hailing down on those still unfortunately outside. Alexander sat at a table, his leg draped over the other as he sipped unconsciously at his coffee.

The cafe was filled with those wishing to escape the cold. The chatter was more than unpleasant, to say the least, as Alexander grew more and more annoyed by the tingling aches his head received. The rain was calming to some point, he supposed, though it was only a small drizzle.

The interior of the cafe seemed nothing that one usually would take note of. It was pleasantly furnished and warmer than outside its walls. It was obviously well kept, there being no scratches on the walls or tears in the cushioned seats.

Alexander leaned back into his seat, inhaling the home-like smell of baking foods. Though the male never quite took note of what his house smelled of exactly, the aroma of the cafe reminded him of a warm place, a place he would call home.

He wanted to avoid returning to that apartment if possible. He knew it was practically impossible, and the relationship between himself and Jalin would likely be severed, should he make any attempt.

Alexander valued their relationship and respected Jalin, but had no actual clue as to how he should approach the situation at hand. His life had changed drastically since he'd met Jalin — hours he would have otherwise spent working were used to untie tangles from a rope he called 'life'. He couldn't say that these uncanny knots weren't distracting him from the real reason he had come to Los Angeles, but they had strengthened the bond between himself and the Lovegood.

He let out a sigh through his nose, bending over the table as he ruffled his already birds-nest of hair.

Work. He needed to do work.

— - - —

Jalin had woken up a while ago. Long after Alexander had left, in accordance to the helpful assistance of his ghost-companion.

His entire physique felt numb, despite the dry desert that was his throat. He was hot, though paralysis still seemed to be imminent, despite his eyes seemingly wanting to flutter to a close, only to be prohibited by the uneasy feeling in his stomach.

Celia had noted multiple times that he looked 'a bit too pale' and continued to ask if he wanted her to get someone. By some miraculous force, he shook his head, though seemed to mouth the word 'water'.

Unfortunately, Celia was unable to read lips — a inability that caused much inconvenience to Jalin as he resumed to stare at the ceiling h had done so before.

You couldn't see any of the misshaped splotches in natural light, Jalin took note of as he stared at the ceiling. Strangely, despite his physical discomfort, he felt quite at ease. Placing the situations that were sure to come to the back of his head, he inhaled deeply, followed by an audible exhale.

Celia seemed to watch Jalin from a distance, her lips sealed, despite her constant emotive chatter. She stared hard at the vulnerable position Jalin was placed in, twirling a strand of blonde hair between her pale fingers.

"Hey, are you okay? The medic-person said you overdosed on that potion n' got addicted. You aren't forgetting the real reason you're here, either, are you?" Celia straightened herself against the doorway she seemed so fond of leaning against.

"No, I didn't forget." Jalins voice was hoarse, yet still flat. "I'm here to assist with Alex's case."

"Exactly." Celia nodded.

"But — I don't know. I loved him before all this — I know I did and just being around him so often—." His voice cracked. "I can't believe I did it."

"Don't be disappointed. You're a grown man, you thought this through—."

"But I didn't!" Cried Jalin as loud as his torn throat would allow, "I didn't think it through, I'm impulsive and disgusting and—."

"For fucks sake—!" Celia roared, floating menacingly towards Jalin, who's teary eyes widened at the interruption. "Damn right." The ghost hissed, taking note of his show of surprise, "How d'ya like other people interrupting you? Get your damn shit together, Lovegood! To fuck with society! Someone's gonna make this legal eventually — believe me, I would know — and don't you dare think that because you like guys, you're automatically a special snowflake. There are other lil' shits like you out there — so can you please for the love of God stop acting like a child and fucking man up!"

Jalin stared at her transparent figure, brown eyes ablaze as she let out a puff of air, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned her face to the side.

His hair fell to cover his face as he remained silent, tears still continuing to run down his pale cheeks. He shut his eyes tight. "I'm sorry." He whispered.

Celia clicked her tongue. "It doesn't matter. Sorry to take out my anger on ya'. That was building up for a while."

Jalin said nothing.

"Y'know," Celia let out an exasperated exhale, "If you're gonna say something as angsty as that after I completely destroyed your self-esteem, ya' need to follow it up with something, yeah?"

The addressed was silent before a broken response tugged it's way out of his trembling lips, "You're mean."

"I get that a lot."

"I hate it."

"That's fine."

"Are you still going to follow me around?"

"Not much you can do about it."

Jalin let a small smile tug at his lips. He hated her — all she was useful for was making him feel worthless; blackmail and bullying were second nature to her. She had no shown expertise in anything, nor did she seem to care about how her certain choice of words could kill him. She had the worst personality, the most irritating voice, the most vulgar vocabulary — he hated her, he hated her, he hated her.

He pried open his lips, with nothing but a whisper leaking through, "Okay."

— - - —

Thomas placed his face into his palm as a maid entered his office, a tray of tea and appetisers held steadily in her grip. He stared in annoyance at the paperwork messily littered on his desk as he mindlessly twirled his fountain pen in his hand, not caring about the ink that stained his palm.

He had returned to Virginia only hours before, on request of a higher up with paperwork that needed to be signed.

"Your tea, Mr. Jefferson." She offered in a hushed, but audible voice.

"What variety?" The addressed inquired, not moving in the slightest.

"Darjeeling, sir." She placed the filled teacup down where it wouldn't be knocked over, its contents barely a few millimetres from the edge.

Nodding, Thomas reached out an arm to retrieved the saucer and cup, standing up as he brought it to his chest. He moved towards the large window on the eastern side of the room, the glass a barrier between the planes of Virginia and the interior of the room.

Abruptly, the sharp breaking of ceramic pierced the room. Thomas let out a cry, clutching his head as he lowered himself to his knees, his head pounding, pounding with a resonating agony. Images flashed by — images he couldn't make out.

Thomas could no longer hear his maids cry for assistance, only the ringing of a gun and the whistle of a bullet


End file.
